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July, 1901, to December, 1901 

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Vol. XXII. 


Xonfcon : 

GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, & 12, SOUTHAMPTON STREET. 



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The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xxii. 

JULY, 1901. 

No. 127. 

Pictures Preferred by Their Painters. 

By Frederick Dolman. 

T is a moot point whether suc- 
cessful artists are good critics 
of their own pictures. They 
should certainly know when 
their own purpose has been 
well achieved ; but the public, 
of course, to say nothing of the professional 
critics, forms its judgment irrespective of the 
artist's purpose. To what extent does the 
personal predilection of the painter harmonize 
with the declared taste of the public ? With 
a view to obtain some answer to this interest- 
ing question I have interrogated a number 
of our leading artists as to the work of their 
brush which has pleased them most. 

"If you ask me," said Sir Lawrence Alma- 
Tadema, R.A., as we chatted over a cigar, 
"which of my own pictures I like best, I 
shall possibly mention some trivial thing, 
with little intrinsic value, because of some 
pleasant associations which it may have for 
me personally. But if you ask me by which 
one picture I would soonest be represented 
I must reply, by my Academy picture of 
last year, * The Baths of Caracalla.' But this 
choice, again, may be entirely due to my 
mental environment for the time being. If 
I were to ask which incident in English 
history you considered most interesting, you 
would probably mention some recent event 
which looms largely in your mind, because of 
the thoughts and feelings that are uppermost 
just now. Still, remembering this, it does 
seem to me that ' The Baths of Caracalla ' 
does show the different sides to my art, does 
exhibit its best qualities at their best. I 
should like to have been represented by this 
picture at the Paris Exhibition instead of 
what I have there, but unfortunately this was 
not possible. The picture was bought by an 
American, and is now in the United States." 

" Did you paint, this picture after a recent 
visit to Rome, Sir I^awrence ? " 

Vol, mdL-1, 

by L^OOgle 

"No; until my visit a short time ago I 
had not been in Rome for some years. I 
have seen the site of the Baths of Caracalla, 
but when I was there I had no idea of paint- 
ing the picture. The picture, like much of 
my recent work, is a picture of ancient Rome 
as it was, and for this work of reconstruction 
I have had to get my information mainly 
from archaeological drawings. I was occupied 
with the picture for two years, and when it 
came back to my studio from the Academy I 
found that it wanted some altering, and I 
worked at it again for some time with help of 
pencil-drawings and models." 

Such alterations after the return of a 
picture from exhibition, Sir Lawrence ex- 
plains en passant, are not very unusual with 
him. One of his pictures, as he relates, was 
radically altered as the result of a Punch 
caricature. This was " The Shrine of Venus " 
— or "the powder-and-puff picture," as Sir 
I^awrence calls it. As originally painted, a 
prominent feature on the canvas was a balus- 
trade, and in the humour of Punch this 
became a switchback railway ! The dis- 
tinguished artist saw that there was point 
in the criticism, though humorous, and 
re-painted the picture as it was recently 
reproduced in this Magazine (Vol. xvin., 
page 606). 

u When in Rome, recently," said Sir 
Lawrence, reverting to the picture of his 
choice, " I took my daughter to see the site 
of the Baths of Caracalla. As soon as the 
ruin came into view she exclaimed that it 
recalled my picture perfectly. This was no 
little triumph for me, I can assure you." 

As we found it impossible to obtain the 
consent of the owners of the copyright to 
the reproduction of "The Baths of Cara- 
calla," Sir Lawrence kindly suggested "A 
Kiss" as "second-best" in his own estima- 
tion. This fine painting is here reproduced 
in the frontispiece opposite. 



Mr, (i, F, Watts, R.A,* who received me 

by his London fireside in Mel bury Road, 
Kensington, protested at the outset that he 
did not himself regard his pictures as works 
of art. 

" F am a thinker/ 1 lie declared, M who 
happens to use the brush instead of the 
pencil. The 
picture of my 
own. therefore, 
which I like 
best is that in 
which I believe 
I have been 
most successful 
in expressing my 
thought This 
is, undoubtedly, 
* Love and Life/ 
I have expressed 
my meaning, 
perhaps, best 
in this picture 
because this 
meaning is of 
the simplest — 
that love, by 
which, of rourse, 
I mean not 
physical passion, 
but altruism, 
leads man to the 
highest life, I 
don't know 
whether this pre- 
ference is shared 
by 'other people. 
I have never 
cared much for 
opinion, a 1 - 
though of course 
I am always glad 
when I hear 
that any picture 
of mine has 
given pleasure. ,! 

"Love and 
Life," which 
was painted in 
1884-85, when 

Mr. Watts was sixty-eight, is one of the 
number of pictures which the artist pre- 
sented to the nation and are to be seen at the 
Tate Gallery, The picture is thus described 
in the catalogue of this gallery:— 

"Love, strong in his immortal youth, leads 
JJfe, a slight female figure, along the steep 

ligilized by \jOOglC 

/'uinfoJiitfl " ixwi ami [.11 -f.." i f r b\ Wait*, R. A, 

(By permission of F r Hoi Iyer, 9, Pembroke Square, Km&in£ton> 

owner of the Copyright,) 

uphill path ; with his broad wings he shelters 
her, that the winds of heaven may not visit 
her too roughly ; violets spring where Love 
has trod, and as they ascend to the mountain- 
top the air becomes more and more golden. 
The implication is that, without the aid of 
Divine Love, fragile Human Life could not 

have power to 
ascend the steep 
path upward/* 

T t w a s the 
good fortune of 
M r. Marcus 
Stone, R.A M to 
be able to send 
to the Paris Ex- 
hibition the pic- 
ture by which 
he would have 
chosen to be re- 
presented at 
such a gathering 
of the world's 
art This was 
"A Sailor's 
Sweetheart," ex- 
hibited at the 
Royal Academy 
five years ago* 

* 1 1 t was 
bought/* said 
Mr. SLone, H by 
an Aberdeen 
gentleman, but 
the owner kindly 
allowed it to be 
shown in Paris, 
A few days ago 
I bad a letter 
from a Parisian, 
who had seen it 
there, stating 
that he wished 
to buy the pic- 
ture and would 
be glad to know 
my price. This 
rather surprised 
me, l>ecause I 
did not suppose 
that the work 
would be much to the taste of the Parisians, 
although engravings of several of my pictures 
sell largely, I believe, in various parts of the 

I asked Mr. Stone for the story of 4( A 
Sailor's Sweetheart' 1 But he replied, in effect, 
that the circumstance^ .. under which all hjj; 




pictures came into being were much the 

IL I never paint actual scenes nor actual 
people. As regards the scene, I may get 
hints from places as well as from books* but 
I have never yet come across an old garden, 
for instance, quite the same as I have painted. 
As regards the figures, for *A Sailor's 
Sweetheart,' as for my other pictures, I had 
sittings from quite a number of different 
models. I would get one feature from the 
first, something else from the second, and so 
on. One girl sat to me for the colour of her 
hair, the second for the expression of the 
eyes, a third simply because the costume I 

little original studies of nearly all his pictures, 
the memory of which the artist thus pre- 
serves. Looking at these I learn that "In 
Love" comes second in Mr. Stone's own 
estimation, whilst "Two's Company, 'three's 
None/' occupies the third place, 

ul In Love,*" says Mr, Stone, "was an 
attempt to depict the old theme in what- 
for a picture— was rather a new phase, I 
fancy. I painted the lovers — or tried to do 
so— in what is perhaps the most interesting 
stage in the passion, the stage when both are 
fervid, hut arc neither quite sure of the 
other, * In I we 3 was lately given by 
a Nottinghamshire gentleman the original 

t\l\!Lt*ft h V \ 

(By perniisskni of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New ]fond Street, London, W. 
Cop3'Tiffht r 1895, hy Photograph] *c he GcsMlhchaftJl 

had obtained for the picture fitted her best. 
In these respects I am quite different from 
such a pa inter as Stanhope Forbes, say, 
who paints graphic facts— and paints I hem 
admirably, let me add. In my method I am 
like a novelist who does not put portraits of 
his acquaintances into his books, but takes 
features from one or the other in making one 
character. But it is difficult to get people 
to understand this. If I looked about for 
living figures and real places to transfer 
bodily to my canvas I am afraid I should 
never find them. If I wanted to paint Hon 
Quixote there would be sure to be a scarcity 
of thin models," 

We talked in an ante-room overlooking 
Mr. Stone's pleasant garden in Mel bury 
Road, Kensington, and on its walls were 

purchaser— to the Nottingham Municipal 
Gallery, where 1 hope it will keep its colour 
as well as it has done hitherto/* 

I suppose nine people out of ten would 
associate the name of Mr* U\ T\ Frith, R.A. T 
with "Derby Day" Or "The Railway 
Station," But although engravings of both 
these famous pictures are to be seen in the 
drawing-room of Mr. Frith's house at Clifton 
Hill, St. John's Wood, it is not of either of 
them that he speaks in reply to my inquiry. 

II The picture of mine I like best is com- 
paratively little known, having for its subject 
the Court of Charles II. It was suggested hy 
a passage in Evelyn's * Diary * describing the 
gaiety and dissipation which prevailed there 
till within a week of the King's death. It wp 



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exhibited at the Academy in 1864, and at 
the time attracted a good deal of attention. 
It was at first sold for 3,000 guineas, but it 
changed hands a few years ago, at a time of 
commercial depression, for little more than 
half that sum. The picture measured 6ft. 
in length." 

"Was it a work which cost you much 
effort, Mr. Frith ? " 

" No, less than most of my pictures. I had 
at the outset a clear idea of what I intended 
doing, and no occasion arose for changing 
my plan. I remember that the idea pleased 
me very much at the time, and I have since 
always felt that this picture is about the best 
thing I have done. Since its first sale the 
work has never been exhibited, and I haven't 
seen it for many years. But I have still my 
original sketch, and this will give you some 
idea what it is like." 

In this sketch Mr. Frith pointed out some 
of the historical figures grouped around the 
King who had but a week more to live —his 
brother James, the Duke of Monmouth, the 
Duchess of Portsmouth, Evelyn, and others. 
As he frankly avows, the introduction of two 
King Charles spaniels into the scene was a 
painter's licence, these dogs not coming into 
vogue until a long time after the Sovereigns 
whose name has been given to them. 

"A remarkable incident," relates Mr. 
Frith, "happened in connection with this 
picture. I had some difficulty in getting a 
suitable model for the figure of Charles — 
none of the professional models who came 
to me was at all satisfactory. I was out walk- 
ing one day near my studio when I passed a 
man who was extraordinarily like Charles II. : 
a broken-down gentleman he seemed to be, 
and he looked ill, just as I wanted the King 
in my picture to look. I entered into con- 
versation with him, and he readily agreed to 
sit for my picture if I paid him to do so. 
The man gave me a good many sittings, until 
at last I told him that I should require him 
no longer. About a week later, in putting 
some finishing touches to the portrait of 
Charles, I thought I should like to have still 
another sitting, and so I went round to the 
address which the man had given me. * Yes, 
you can see him/ said the landlady, ' but he 
is dead.* The poor fellow had died just a 
week after his last sitting." 

u Charles the Second's Last Sunday " was 
painted in Mr. FritH's professional prime, 
during the period which produced also 
"Derby Day" and "The Railway Station." 
Mr. Frith is now on the retired list of the 
Royal Academy, like Mr- Watts, but, although 

eighty-one, he has contributed a picture this 
year to Burlington House. In 1899 he was 
represented by a canvas also relating to the 
" Merry Monarch," Charles II. and Lady 
Castlemain being the subject. 

I met Sir William B. Richmond, R.A., 
just after he had renewed his acquaintance 
with a picture of his, painted in 1890-92, 
which had been lent by its owners, the 
Liverpool Corporation, for the annual ex- 
hibition of last year in the London Guild- 
hall. Sir William's visit to the City Art 
Gallery had confirmed him in an impression 
he had already formed that " Venus and 
Anchises " was the best work he had done. 

" An artist," Sir William remarks, " is the 
best critic of his own work a year or so after 
its completion. He always hates the work 
he is engaged upon — its faults are then so 
painfully obvious to him. But in a year or 
two he can take a saner and juster view of 
it, remembering the ideas with which the 
picture was painted, and realizing to what 
extent he has succeeded in giving them form 
and colour. 

" Like every man's best work, I fancy, 
4 Venus and Anchises ' suggested itself to me 
as the idea of a moment. But if the concep- 
tion was easy the work itself cost me a great 
deal of pains — I was about two years paint- 
ing it. But in painting as in poetry — you re- 
member the lines of Keats referring to this — 
a spontaneous conception is the great thing." 

Sir William added that the suggestion for 
the picture came from reading, as might be 
inferred from the fact that with its catalogue 
title he quotes these lines from Shelley's 
44 Epipsychidion " : — 
Athwart that wintry wilderness of thorns 
Flashed from her motion splendour like the morn's, 
And from her presence life was radiated 
Through the grey earth, and branches bare and dead ; 
So that her way was paved and roofed above 
With flowers as soft as thoughts of budding love. 

As regards the legendary subject of the 
picture, probably few who see it will remem- 
ber that Venus is supposed to have visited 
Anchises, whose handsomeness was celebrated 
far and wide, on Mount Ida ; that, at the 
capture of Troy, Anchises, then old and 
feeble, was borne out on ^Eneas's shoulders 
and died on the voyage to Italy, his death 
being commemorated for many years by the 

Sir William Richmond now resides in a 
pleasant, old-fashioned house on the borders 
of Hammersmith and Chiswick ; but " Venus 
and Anchises" was painted in a studio in 
Holland Park Road. 1 fJJL was exhibited ?t 





UmVtKMIT Uh MIL Ml 1 . j.p.N 


the New Gallery in 1893, and was taken to 
Liverpool in the autumn of that year. 

"I agree with the critics," said Mr, Phil 
Morris, A. R.A.j to me in the drawing-room 
of his house in Clifton Hill, St John's 
Wood, u in regarding * The First Com- 
munion J as my best work- It was painted 
shortly after my election as an Associate in 
1877, The picture was 10ft high, and before 
my election I had not felt justified in painting 
so Urge a picture. The subject suggested 
itself to me in Brittany on seeing a procession 

London studio, which was then in St. John's 
Wood Road It was sold before the opening 
of the Academy, and I renewed acquaintance 
with it recently at the Guildhall Loan 

Mr, Frederick Goodall, R.A,, I found, on 
calling at his residence in Avenue Road, 
Regent's Park, was not so certain which of 
his own pictures he preferred He first 
mentioned M The Flight into Egypt/' a big 
canvas measuring 12ft* in length, which, from 
want of room in his own house, had been 


(By ptrmi&ion of R. W, Butler, E*^) 

Whit J/orrfr, A.R.A. 

of maidens such as usually takes place at the 
'first communion '—which corresponds, of 
course, to our confirmation service in England. 
Some time afterwards I saw a similar proces- 
sion at Dieppe, on their way from the church 
to a Calvary close to the harbour, and it at 
once occurred to me that the subject could 
be much more effectively treated with the 
harbour and the sea as background." 

" Was the picture itself painted at Dieppe ? " 
" Well, I made all my studies for it there, 
I went over to the fishing quarter of Le Pollet 
and got the girls to pose for me by giving 
them a few francs — a local belle of the name 
of Francine being, I remember, very useful to 
me in finding my models for me. I painted 
the picture from these sketches in my 

Vol. n*.- 2 

warehoused since its exhibition at the Royal 
Academy in 1884, But although lie evi- 
dently regarded this as the supreme effort 
of his brush, two other pictures had pleased 
him as much in the painting, 4i David 
and Bathsheba " and "The Ploughman and 
Shepherdess/' The subject of the first was 
suggested to the artist by the late Sir Moses 
Montefiore, the picture being purchased by 
him on its completion, and hung in his well- 
known residence at Ramsgate. The second 
picture represents Mr. Goodall in the Tate 
Gallery, being purchased at the Royal 
Academy and presented to the nation by a 
number of subscribers in 1897. 

Finally, with Mrs, Goodall's kindly assist- 
ance, the artist's choice fell upon "The 




Ploughman and Shepherdess," the subject of 
which he explained to me as follows : — 

" It is a pastoral scene such as is common 
to Lower EgypL The shepherdess has met 
the shepherd at the drink ing-pool, but at the 
moment of the encounter he is standing 
upon his praying carpet engaged in evening 
prayer, and while he is so occupied she dare 
not even look at him, and is sitting patiently 
by with her face turned away. I have seen 

which to work, as you will see if you look 
around the walls, and there is no difficulty in 
getting models who are sufficiently dark- 
skinned in London. But I believe I was 
the first English artist to paint the Bedouin 
Arabs in their native habitat. They had 
never seen paints or paintings when I first 
went among them more than twenty years 
ago* It was hard work at first to induce 
them to allow me to sketch them, more 

Paintnt h.,\ 


[ Frederick tfmfaU. AX. 

(By permission &F ihe TrUMces of the National Gallery <>f British Ari p Millbnnk.) 



such an incident more 1 
Egyptian ramblings* 

"The sheep, you will notice, are quite 
different from our European breeds. To 
make myself familiar with Egyptian sheep I 
imported a whole flock in 1884, and kept 
them on a farm at Harrow Weald, where I 
could constantly sketch them. But, unfor- 
tunately, with the greatest care they will not 
live long in our climate, and although a 
number lambed they have now all died off. 1? 

" What did you do for your models of the 
figures, Mr, Coodall?" 

"Oh> I have any number nf original 
sketches brought with me from Egypt from 

ne from Egypt froi 

by Google 

especially the women. Of course, I had to 
ingratiate myself with plenty of bakskeesk — 
presents of coffee, tobacco, and other things 
they most valued. After a time, when they 
were about to move their encampment, they 
would ask me to accompany them to their 
next halting-place, and 1 would consent on 
condition that I was allowed to paint any 
face I chose to pick out of the tribe." 

Mr, Goodall received 2,000 "guineas for 
"The Ploughman and Shepherdess/* which 
is 7ft- in length* The fund for presenting it 
to the nation was started by Sir James 
131) th, and several well known South African 
millionaires were subscribers, 




I found Mr. Edwin A. Abbey, R.A,, one 
sunny Saturday afternoon hard at work in his 
I^ondon studio on his great scheme of mural 
decoration for the Public Library of Boston, 
U.S. A*, painting from a fair model in cos- 
tumej such as Tennyson might have described 
in " Idylls of the King." I was not surprised 
to hear that his preference was given to one 
of these pictures illustrating the u Quest of 
the Holy Grail" 

M But I don't know how you can reproduce 
the picture/' said Mr, Abbey, with a smile, 
"in The Strand Magazine. It measures 

width, about 8ft., being uniform throughout, 
and this mechanical limitation adding some- 
what to the difficulty of my task. I have 
now finished about half this space, and I 
have been engaged upon the work on and off 
for the last nine years. But I am happy to 
think that I am more than half-way through 
the undertaking, the planning and arrange- 
ment of the whole series of frescoes taking a 
good deal of time at the outset. 'The Grail 
Castle' is the largest of the series." 

The distinguished artist — American by 
birth and British by adoption— then told me 

I>llf*fp? bv>] rouTlns of "the rnjKST ok tfif. itoi.v nRAru" IS. A. AbL 

(Painting Copyright, tS^j, by E< A. Abhcy : From a Copley print, Copyright, 1897^ by Curtis & Cameron.) 


33ft. on the wall of the Boston Library, and 
is about 8ft. high." 

"It must represent a great amount of 

"Well, I believe it cost me more effort 
than anything else I have done ; but, on the 
other hand, I have the satisfaction of thinking 
that in this picture I have best achieved my 
ideal. It was not exhibited at the Academy 
on account of its great size — they are crowded 
enough there for room already ; but, as you 
may remember, it was shown at the Fine Art 
Society's rooms, in Conduit Street, just before 
being sent to Boston four or five years ago." 

* l What is the total size of the scheme of 
which this picture forms a part, Mr. Abbey? 1 ' 

11 I have to cover 180ft, altogether the 

by VjiC 


some thing about the circumstances in which 
this great work of his life was undertaken. 
He and his fellow-countryman, Mr. J, S. 
Sargent, R + A., were in Boston at the time the 
new Public Library was projected, and it was 
the happy thought of the architect that they 
should unite in the decoration of the build- 
ing. A series of Shakespearean pictures was 
at first suggested to the artist, whose reputa- 
tion rests mainly upon the realistic way in 
which he has transferred Shakespeare to 

" But I proposed instead the legend of the 
Holy Grail It had always been a matter 
of surprise to me that no painter had 
attempted to make adequate use of this, the 
first great romance of Christendom —of 
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course, there have been numerous pictures of 

particular incidents, but no artistic treatment 

of the subject as a whole. Yet this legend, 

originating, I suppose, with the Welsh or 

Irish Celts, has spread in varying forms and 

phases to France, Germany, Scandinavia! 

and Spain, I have gone to all the different 

sources for my subjects, getting an idea from 

one author and a hint from the other, 

according to the way in which they lent 

themselves to artistic treatment. The library 

will be furnished with the whole story of the 

Holy Grail as it is told in my frescoes," 

told me that his own favourite among his 
pictures was not a Surrey but a Worcester- 
shire landscape, well known under the title 
" At Evening Time there shall be Light" 

" As you know," said the famous land- 
scape-painter, " Worcestershire is my native 
county, and the scene of this picture had been 
familiar to me since boyhood, a village called 
Whittington. The church has been much 
modernized, however, and I painted this with 
the assistance of a pencil sketch of the old 
church which was lent to me by a friend in 
the neighbourhood. Otherwise the picture is 



(Copy right*) 

[Solatium J. riolartwn, A. ft. A. 

"The GTail Castle " was painted, like most 
of Ik, Abbey's work, chiefly at his country 
house, Morgan Hall, in f Gloucestershire. tL I 
can work so much better m the country," he 
remark^" free from interruption or distract ion, 
I spend only about four months of the year 
in town, taking my canvases back to 
Gloucestershire before the summer is over. 
My only trouble there is in obtaining 
sufficient variety in my models — for such 
pictures as 'The Grail Castle, 5 of course, I 
want a good many models." 

In the course of a chat at the Arts Club, 
Mr. B. W. Leader, R.A., who had torn him 
self away from his belp^d Surrey in June, 

by Google 

a fairly faithful presentment of the view from 
the back of Whittington Lodge, which was 
my residence until I came into Surrey about 
a dozen years ago- It was painted during 
the winter of 1S82 and exhibited at the 
Academy that year." 

"That picture has greatly pleased many 
people, Mr. Leader/' 

" Yes, I suppose it has been one of my 
most successful pictures as well as my own 
favourite. It led to my election as an A.R.A., 
and when exhibited in the Paris Exhibition 
of i88y won for me a gold medal as well as 
the Legion of Honour. It was bought by 
Agnew before he had seen it, and when, on 
the break-up of Sir John Pender's collee 
Original from 




lion, the picture came into the market 
recently* Mr. Arnold Morley gave 1,200 
guineas for it. It has also sold very largely 
I am told, as an engraving. I remember 
that when 1 first spoke of making an im- 
portant picture out of this scene my wife 
tried strongly to dissuade me. She said that 
a churchyard in winter-time would make such 
a dismal subject, and she held to this opinion 
all the time that I was making my sketches, 
But somehow or other I always had a strong 
faith in this subject, and painting it was really 
a labour of love," 

By way of supplement to this little piece of 
autobiography I may add that Mr. Leader, 

it } although it is my experience that you cat 
devote any amount of hard work to a canva 
without getting what you want." 

"Samson and Delilah " was Mr. Solomon' 
second important picture, " Cassandra " be in 
his first. It was exhibited at the Academ 
in 1887, when the artist was twenty-sever 
and did a great deal for Mr. Solomon 
reputation, although it was some years late 
before he became A-R*A. 

" The picture I am about to begin," w; 
the smiling reply of Mr + G + A, Storey, A,R,A 
when I asked him which of his own pictun 
he liked best. " I am disposed to agrt 

Painted by\ 


[';. A. Storey, A. It 

who is now in his seventieth year, exhibited 
his first picture, "Country Children Blowing 
Bubbles, 1 ' at the Academy in 1854, and was 
delighted in selling it to an American visitor 
for £S°> 

Mr. Solomon J, Solomon, A.R.A., who 
had just returned to his house in Finchley 
Road from a round of country visits, had 
no hesitation in mentioning "Samson and 
Delilah" as the favourite child of his artistic 

** The idea of the picture was" with me for 
years. I made sketches for it even in my 
student days, and for a long time the picture 
was shaping itself in my mind. Vl:s, I nut 
plenty of hard work, too, into the painting of 

by Google 

with that painter who said that the work 
was about to start was the best, and the 
he had finished was the worst picture in 
world. Seriously* I have no reason for ] 
ferring any of my pictures except ' Scanc 
which led me to the Academy in i£ 
although it was painted four years before, 

"Where was 'Scandal' painted, 
Storey ? K 

"Oh, in my London studio. The pici 
is almost entirely imaginative. The only 
thing about the scene is the little gar 
view, with the trellis arch, which was ta 
from the Star and Garter at Richmc 
The picture itself was suggested to me by 
mother, who, in her later years, became 
deaf, and was delighted if a neighbour w< 

Original from 




drop in and talk 
to her through 
her ear- trumpet, 
giving her the 
gossip of the day. TJ 

" The picture 
of my own," said 
Ml G. H. Bough- 
ton, R. A,, "which 
fias pleased me 
most— although I 
am afraid it hasn't 
the public — is 
* The Vision at 
the Martyr's Well, 
Brittany/ When 
kwas exhibited at 
the Academy in 
[895 some people 
objected to it 
because they 
t hou g h t it 
'Roman Catholic 
in idea, 7 while 
others considered 
that the picture 
pandered to 

"I need not tell 
you that 1 had no 
thought of the- 
ology from first to 
last. The subject 
of the picture 
tame to me when 
I iras staying in 
Brittany. In one 
of the villages — I 
have for the mo- 
ment forgotten its 
name — I saw a 
fell, the water of 
which passes over 
some curious red- 
dish stones, the 
streaks of colour 
being due, I sup- 
pose, to some min- 
eral element. 
According to the 

Painted h\f] 



[G, H. JfeupMon, It. A. 

local tradition, a village maiden who went to 
the well at twilight saw in a vision one of the 
Christian martyrs— it was in Pagan times, I 
suppose — at the w T ell, and as she looked she 
saw the blood from the martyr's wounds 
trickle on to the stones, where these blood- 
stains have remained ever since, giving the 
well a holy name. Of course, it is sheer 

Digitized by Google 

superstition ; but, then, if you abolished 
superstition altogether, you would lose a good 
deal of the poetry and art of the world." 
"Where is this picture, Ml Bough ton? " 
"Well, it is now away on what may be 
called a provincial tour, I have lent it for 
several municipal exhibitions, and just now 
it is in the Leeds Art Gallery." 
Original from 


The First Men in the Moon. 

By H. G. Wells. 



HKN I had finished my ac- 
count of my return to the earth 
at Littlestone I wrote "The 
End," made a flourish, and 
threw my pen aside, fully 
believing that the whole story 
of the First Men in the Moon was done. 
Not only had I done this, but I had placed 
my manuscript in the hands of a literary 
agent, had permitted 
it to be sold, had seen 
the greater portion of 
it appear in The 
Strand Magazine, 
and was setting to 
work again upon the 
scenario of the play I 
had commenced at 
Lympne before I real- 
ized that the end was 
not yet. And then, 
following me from 
Amalfi to Algiers, 
there reached me {it is 
now about six weeks 
ago) one of the most 
astounding communi- 
cations I have ever 
been fated to receive. 
Briefly, it informed 
me that Mr, Julius 
Wend ige e t a Dutch 
electrician, who has 
been experimenting 
with certain apparatus 
akin to the apparatus 
used by Mr. Tesla in 
America, in the hope 

of discovering some method of communica- 
tion with Mars, was receiving day by day a 
curiously fragmentary message in English, 
which was indisputably emanating from Mr* 
Cavor in the moon. 

At first I thought the thing was an 
elaborate practical joke by someone who had 
seen the manuscript of my narrative. I 
answered Mr, Wendigee jestingly, but he 
replied in a manner dint put such suspicion 
altogether aside, and in a state of inconceiv- 
able excitement I hurried from Algiers to the 
little observatory upon the St. Gothard in 
which he was working. In the presence of 
his record and his appliances— and above alt 
of the messages from Mr, Cavor that were 



coming to hand — my lingering doubts 
vanished, I decided at once to accept a 
proposal he made me to remain with him, 
assisting him to take down the record from 
day to day, and endeavouring with him to 
send a message back to the moon. Cavor, 
we learnt, was not only alive but free, in the 
midst of an almost inconceivable community 
of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, in the 
blue darkness of the lunar caves. He was 
lamed, it seemed, but otherwise in quite 
good health — in better health, he distinctly 

said, than he usually 
e n j oy ed on ea r t h , He 
had had a fever, but 
it had left no bad 
effects. But curiously 
enough he seemed to 
be labouring under a 
conviction that I was 
either dead in the 
moon crater or lost in 
the deep of space. 

His message began 
to be received by Mr, 
Wendigee when that 
gentleman was en- 
gaged in quite a differ- 
ent investigation, The 
reader will no doubt 
recall the little excite- 
ment that began the 
century, arising out of 
an announcement by 
Mr. Nikola Tesla, the 
American electrical 
celebrity, that he had 
received a message 
from Mars. His an- 
nouncement renewed 
attention to a fact that 
had long been familiar to scientific people, 
namely : that from some unknown source in 
space, waves of electromagnetic disturbance, 
entirely similar to those used by Signor 
Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, are 
constantly reaching the earth. Besides Mr. 
Tesla quite a number of other observers 
have been engaged in perfecting apparatus 
for receiving and recording these vibrations, 
though few would go so far as to consider 
them actual messages from some extra- 
terrestrial sender. Among that few, however, 
we must certainly count Mr. Wendigee, 
Ever since 1898 he had devoted himself 
almost entirely to this subject, and being a 
man of ample means he had erected an 

Well*, b die TJnircd Stat^pfi3^jipip#t4rrO*« 





observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in 
a position singularly adapted in every way for 
such observations. 

My scientific attainments, I must admit, 
are not great, but so far as they enable me 
to judge, Mr. Wendigee's contrivances for 
detecting and recording any disturbances 
in the electro-magnetic conditions of space 
are singularly original and ingenious. And 
by a happy combination of circumstances 
they were set up and in operation about 
two months before Cavor made his first 
attempt to call up the earth. Consequently 
we have fragments of his communication 
even from the beginning. Unhappily, they 
are only fragments, and the most momentous 
of all the things that he had to tell humanity 
— the instructions, that is, for the making of 
Cavorite, if, indeed, he ever transmitted 
them — have throbbed themselves away un- 
recorded into space. We never succeeded 
in getting a response back to Cavor. 
He was unable to tell, therefore, what we 
had received or what we had missed ; nor, 
indeed, did he certainly know that anyone 
on earth was really aware of his efforts to 
reach us. And the persistence he displayed 
in sending eighteen long descriptions of 
lunar affairs — as they would be if we had 
them complete — shows how much his mind 
must have turned back towards his native 
planet since he left it two years ago. 

You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendi- 
gee must have been when he discovered his 
record of electro - magnetic disturbances 
interlaced by Cavor's straightforward 
English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our 
wild journey moonward, and suddenly — this 
English out of the void ! 

It is well the reader should understand 
the conditions under which it would seem 
these messages were sent. Somewhere within 
the moon Cavor certainly had access for a 
time to a considerable amount of electrical 
apparatus, and it would seem he rigged up — 
perhaps furtively — a transmitting arrange- 
ment of the Marconi type. This he was 
able to operate at irregular intervals : some- 
times for only half an hour or so, sometimes 
for three or four hours at a stretch. At 
these times he transmitted his earthward 
message, regardless of the fact that the rela- 
tive position of the moon and points upon 
the earth's surface is constantly altering. As 
a consequence of this and of the necessary 
imperfections of our recording instruments 
his communication comes and goes in our 
records in an extremely fitful manner; it 
becomes blurred; it "fades out" in a 
Vol. *«L-3. 

mysterious and altogether exasperating way. 
And added to this is the fact that he was 
not an expert operator; he had partly for- 
gotten, or never completely mastered, the 
code in general use, and as he became 
fatigued he dropped words and misspelt in 
a curious manner. 

Altogether we have probably lost quite 
half of the communications he made, and 
much we have is damaged, broken, and 
partly effaced. In the abstract that follows 
the reader must be prepared therefore for a 
considerable amount of break, hiatus, and 
change of topic. Mr. Wendigee and I are 
collaborating in a complete and annotated 
edition of the Cavor record, which we hope 
to publish, together with a detailed account 
of the instruments employed, beginning with 
the first volume in January next. That will 
be the full and scientific report, of which 
this is only the popular first transcript. But 
here we give at least sufficient to complete 
the story I have told, and to give the broad 
outlines of the state of that other world so 
near, so kin, and yet so dissimilar to our own. 



The two earlier messages of Mr. Cavor 
may very well be reserved for that larger 
volume. They simply tell with greater 
brevity and with a difference in several 
details that is interesting, but not of any vital 
importance, the bare facts of the making of 
the sphere and our departure from the world. 
Throughout, Cavor speaks of me as a man 
who is dead, but with a curious change of 
temper as he approaches our landing on the 
moon. " Poor Bedford," he says of me, and 
" this poor young man," and he blames him- 
self for inducing a young man, " by no means 
well equipped for such adventures," to leave 
a planet "on which he was indisputably fitted 
to succeed " on so precarious a mission. I 
think he underrates the part my energy and 
practical capacity played in bringing about 
the realization of his theoretical sphere. 
" We arrived," he says, with no more account 
of our passage through space than if we had 
made a journey of common occurrence in a 
railway train. 

And then he becomes increasingly unfair 
to me. Unfair, indeed, to an extent I should 
not have expected in a man trained in the 
search for truth. Looking back over my 
previously written account of these things 
I must insist that I have been altogether 
to Cavor than he has been to me. I 


juster to < 




have extenuated little and suppressed nothing. 
But his account is : — 

" It speedily became apparent that the 
entire strangeness of our circumstances and 
surroundings— great loss of weight, attenuated 
but highly oxygenated air, consequent ex- 
aggeration of the results of muscular effort, 
rapid development of weird plants from 
obscure spores, lurid sky — was exciting my 
companion unduly. On the moon his 
character seemed to deteriorate. He became 
impulsive, rash, and quarrelsome. In a little 
while his folly in devouring some gigantic 
vesicles and his consequent intoxication led 
to our capture by the Selenites— before we 
had had the slightest opportunity of properly 
observing their ways. ..." 

(He says, you observe, nothing of his own 
concession to these same "vesicles.") 

And he goes on from that point to say 
that " We came to a difficult passage with 
them, and Bedford mistaking certain gestures 
of theirs " — pretty gestures they were ! — 
"gave way to a panic violence. He ran 
amuck, killed three, and perforce I had to 
flee with him after the outrage. Subsequently 
we fought with a number who endeavoured 
to bar our way, and slew seven or eight more. 
It says much for the tolerance of these 
beings that on my recapture I was not 
instantly slain. We made our way to the 
exterior and separated in the crater of our 
arrival, to increase our chances of recovering 
our sphere. But presently I came upon a 
body of Selenites, led by two who were 
curiously different, even in form, from any of 
those we had seen hitherto, with larger heads 
and smaller bodies and much more elaborately 
wrapped about. And after evading them for 
some time I fell into a crevasse, cut my head 
rather badly and displaced my patella, and, 
finding crawling very painful, decided to 
surrender — if they would still permit me to 
do so. This they did, and, perceiving my 
helpless condition, carried me with them 
again into the moon. And of Bedford I 
have heard or seen nothing more, nor, so far 
as I can gather, has any Selenite. Either 
the night overtook him in the crater, or else, 
which is more probable, he found the sphere, 
and, desiring to steal a march upon me, 
made off with it — only, I fear, to find it 
uncontrollable, and to meet a more lingering 
fate in outer space." 

And with that Cavor dismisses me 
and goes on to more interesting topics. I 
dislike the idea of seeming to use my posi- 
tion as his editor to deflect his story in my 
own interest, but I am obliged to protest here 

against the turn he gives these occurrences. 
He says nothing about that gasping message 
on the blood-stained paper in which he told, 
or attempted to tell, a very different story. 
The dignified self-surrender is an altogether 
new view of the affair that has come to him, 

I must insist, since he began to feel secure 
among the lunar people; and as for the 

II stealing a march " conception, I am quite 
willing to let the reader decide between us 
on what he has before him. I know I am 
not a model man — I have made no pretence 
to be. But am I that f 

However, that is the sum of my wrongs. 
From this point I can edit Cavor with an 
untroubled mind, for he mentions me no 

It would seem the Selenites who had come 
upon him carried him to some point in the 
interior down " a great shaft " by means of 
what he describes as "a sort of balloon." 
We gather from the rather confused passage 
in which he describes this, and from a 
number of chance allusions and hints in 
other and subsequent messages, that this 
" great shaft " is one of an enormous system 
of artificial shafts that run, each from what 
is called a lunar "crater," downwards for very 
nearly a hundred miles towards the central 
portion of our satellite. These shafts com- 
municate by transverse tunnels, they throw 
out abyssmal caverns and expand into great 
globular places ; the whole of the moon's sub- 
stance for a hundred miles inward, indeed, is a 
mere sponge of rock. " Partly," says Cavor, 
"this sponginess is natural, but very largely it 
is due to the enormous industry of the 
Selenites in the past. The enormous circular 
mounds of the excavated rock and earth it is 
that form these great circles about the tunnels 
known to earthly astronomers (misled by a 
false analogy) as volcanoes." 

It was down this shaft they took him, in 
this " sort of balloon " he speaks of, at first 
into an inky blackness and then into a region 
of continually increasing phosphorescence. 
Cavor's despatches show him to be curiously 
regardless of detail for a scientific man, but 
we gather that this light was due to the 
streams and cascades of water — "no doubt 
containing some phosphorescent organism " 
— that flowed ever more abundantly down- 
ward towards the Central Sea. And as he 
descended, he says, "The Selenites also 
became luminous." And at last far below 
him he saw as it were a lake of heatless fire, 
the waters of the Central Sea, glowing and 
eddying in strange perturbation, "like lumi- 
nous blue milk that is just on the boil." 




"This Lunar Sea/' says C&vor, in a later 
passage, , l4 is not a stagnant ocean; a solar 
tide sends it in a perpetual flow around the 
lunar axis, and strange storms and boilings 
and rushings of its waters occur, and at times 
cold winds and thunderings that ascend out 
of it into the busy ways of the great ant-hill 
above. It is only when the water is in 
motion that it 
gives out light ; 
in its rare seasons 
of calm it is 
black. Com 
monly, when one 
sees it, its waters 
rise and fall in 
an oily swell, and 
flakes and big 
rafts of shining, 
bubbly foam driit 
with the slug- 
gish, faintly-glow- 
ing current, The 
Selenites navi- 
gate its cavern- 
ous straits and 
lagoons in little 
shallow boats of 
a canoe - like 
snap-: : and even 
before my jour- 
ney to the gal- 
leries about the 
Grand Lunar, 
who is Master of 
the Moon, I was 
permitted to 
make a brief 
excursion on its 

"The caverns 
and passages are 
naturally very 
tortuous* A large 
proportion of 
these wa)s are 
known only to 
expert pilots 
among the fisher- 
men, and not 

infrequently Selenites are ]ost for ever in their 
labyrinths. In their remoter recesses, I am 
told, strange creatures lurk, some of them 
terrible and dangerous creatures that all the 
science of the moon has been unable to 
exterminate* There is particularly the 
Kapha, an inextricable mass of clutching 
tentacles that one hacks to pieces only to 
multiply ; and the Tzee, a darting creature 

Digitized by vjuugn 


that is never seen, so subtly and suddenly 
does it slay, . . . w 

He gives us a gleam of description. 
" I was reminded on this excursion of what 
I have read of the Mammoth Caves ; if only I 
had had a yellow flambeau instead of the 
pervading blue light, and a solid-looking 
boatman with an oar instead of a scuttle faced 

Selenite working 
an engine at the 
back of the 
canoe, I could 
have imagined I 
had suddenly got 
back to earth. 
The rocks nbout 
us were very vari- 
ous, sometimes 
black, sometimes 
pale blue and 
veined, and once 
they flashed and 
glittered as 
though we had 
come into a mine 
of sapphires. 
And below one 
saw the ghostly 
fishes flash and 
vanish in the 
hardly less phos- 
phorescent doe p. 
Then, presently, 
along ultra- 
marine vista 
down the turgid 
stream of one of 
the channels of 
traffic, and a 
land ing-stage, 
and then, per- 
haps, a glimpse 
up the enormous 
crowded shaft of 
one of the verti- 
cal ways. 

L( In one great 
place heavy with 
glistening stalac- 
tites a number of boa Is were fishing. We 
went alongside one or these and watched 
the long armed fishing Selenites winding in a 
net. They were little, hunchbacked insects 
with very strong arms, short, bandy legs, and 
cr'nkled face- masks. As they pulled at it 
that net seemed the heaviest thing I had 
come upon in the moon : it was loaded with 
weights — n<Od®ibBlrff£^Bid— and it took a 





long time to draw, for in those waters the 
larger and more edible fish lurk deep* The 
fish in the net came up like a blue moon- 
rise— a blaze of darting, tossing blue. 

" Among their catch was a manytentacu- 
late, evil-eyed black thing, ferociously active, 
whose appearance they greeted with shrieks 
and twitters, and which with quick, nervous 
movements they hacked to pieces by means of 
little hatchets. All its dissevered limbs con- 
tinued to lash and writhe in a vicious manner. 
Afterwards when fever had hold of me I 
dreamt again and again of that hatter, furious 
creature rising so vigorous and active out of 
the unknown sea. It was the most active 
and malignant thing of all the living creatures 
I have yet seen in this world inside the 
moon * , . . . 

"The surface of this sea must be very 
nearly two hundred miles (if not more) below 
the level of the moon's exterior ; all the cities 
of the moon lie, I learnt, immediately above 
this Central Sea, in such cavernous spaces and 
artificial galleries as I have described, and 
they communicate with the exterior by enor- 
mous vertical shafts which open invariably in 
what are called by earthly astronomers the 
* craters * of the moon. The lid covering 

one such aperture I had already seen di 
the wanderings that had preceded 

14 Upon the condition or the less ce 
portion of the moon I have not yet an 
at very precise knowledge. There i; 
enormous system of caverns in which 
mooncalves shelter during the night ; 
there are abattoirs and the like — in or 
these it was that I and Bedford fought 
the Selenite butchers— and I have since 
balloons laden with meat descending o 
the upper dark. I have as yet scarcely \ 
as much of these things as a Zulu in Lo 
would learn about the British corn sut 
in the same time. It is clear, however 
these vertical shafts and the vegetation < 
surface must play an essential ro 
ventilating and keeping fresh the atnios 
of the moon. At one time, and panic 
on my first emergence from my prison, 
was certainly a cold wind blowing dmt 
shaft, and later there was a kind of si 
upward that corresponded with my 
For at the end of about three weeks I 
of an indefinable sort of fever, and it 
of sleep and the quinine tabloids tha 
fortunately I had brought in my poc 
remained ill and fretting miserably, aln 




the time when I was taken into the palace of 
the Grand Lunar, who is Master of the Moon. 
" I will not dilate on the wretchedness of 
my condition," he remarks, "during those 
days of ill-health." And he goes on with 
great amplitude with details I omit here. 
"My temperature," he concludes, "kept 
abnormally high for a long time, and I lost 
all desire for food. I had stagnant waking 
intervals, and sleep tormented by dreams, and 
at one phase I was, I remember, so weak as 
to be earth-sick and almost hysterical. I 
longed almost intolerably for colour to break 
the everlasting blue. ..." 

He reverts again presently to the topic of 
this sponge caught lunar atmosphere. I am 
told by astronomers and physicists that all 
he tells is in absolute accordance with what 
was already known of the moon's condition. 
Had earthly astronomers had the courage 
and imagination to push home a bold induc- 
tion, says Mr. Wendigee, they might have 
foretold almost everything that Cavor has to 
say of the general structure of the moon. 
They know now pretty certainly that moon 
and earth are not so much satellite and 
primary as smaller and greater sisters, made 
out of one mass, and consequently made 
of the same material. And since the 
density of the moon is only three-fifths that 
of the earth, there can be nothing for it but 
that she is hollowed out by a great system of 
caverns. There was no necessity, said Sir 
Jabez Flap, F.R.S., that most entertaining 
exponent of the facetious side of the stars, 
that we should ever have gone to the moon 
to find out such easy inferences, and points 
the pun with an allusion to Gruyfere, but he 
certainly might have announced his know- 
ledge of the hollowness of the moon before. 
And if the moon is hollow, then the apparent 
absence of air and water is, of course, quite 
easily explained. The sea lies within at the 
bottom of the caverns, and the air travels 
through the great sponge of galleries, in 
accordance with simple physical laws. The 
caverns of the moon, on the whole, are very 
windy places. As the sunlight comes round 
the moon the air in the outer galleries on 
that side is heated, its pressure increases, 
some flows out on the exterior and mingles 
with the evaporating air of the craters (where 
the plants remove its carbonic acid), while 
the greater portion flows round through the 
galleries to replace the shrinking air of the 
cooling side that the sunlight has left. There 
is> therefore, a constant eastward breeze in 
the air of the outer galleries, and an up-flow 
during the lunar day up the shafts, compli- 

cated, of course, very greatly by the varying 
shape of the galleries and the ingenious 
contrivances of the Selenite mind. . . . 



The messages of Cavor from the sixth up 
to the sixteenth are for the most part so 
much broken, and they abound so in repeti- 
tions, that they scarcely form a consecutive 
narrative. They will be given in full, of 
course, in the scientific report, but here it 
will be far more convenient to continue 
simply to abstract and quote as in the former 
chapter. We have subjected every word to 
a keen critical scrutiny, and my own brief 
memories and impressions of lunar things 
have been of inestimable help in interpreting 
what would otherwise have been impenetrably 
dark. And, naturally, as living beings our 
interest centres far more upon the strange 
community of lunar insects in which he is 
living, it would seem, as an honoured guest 
than upon the mere physical condition of 
their world. 

I have already made it clear, I think, that 
the Selenites I saw resembled man in main- 
taining the erect attitude and in having four 
limbs, and I have compared the general 
appearance of their heads and the jointing 
of their limbs to that, of insects. I have 
mentioned, too, the peculiar consequence of 
the smaller gravitation of the moon on their 
fragile slightness. Cavor confirms me upon 
all these points. He calls them " animals," 
though of course they fall under no division 
of the classification of earthly creatures, and 
he points out " the insect type of anatomy 
had, fortunately for men, never exceeded a 
relatively very small size on earth." The 
largest terrestrial insects, living or extinct, do 
not, as a' matter of fact, measure 6in. in 
length ; " but here, against the lesser gravita- 
tion of the moon, a creature certainly as 
much an insect as vertebrate seems to have 
been able to attain to human and ultra- 
human dimensions." 

He does not mention the ant, but through- 
out his allusions Jthe ant is continually being 
brought before my mind, in its sleepless 
activity, in its intelligence and social organiza- 
tion, in its structure, and more particularly 
in the fact that it displays, in addition to the 
two forms, the male and the female form, 
that almost all other animals possess, a 
number of other sexless creatures, workers, 
soldiers, and the like, differing from one 
another in structure, character, power, and 
use, and yet all members of the same species, 




For these Selenites have a great variety of 
forms. Of course these Selenites are not only 
colossal ly greater in size than ants, but also, 
in Cavor's opinion, in respect to intelligence, 
morality, and social wisdom are they colossal ly 
greater than men. And instead of the four 
or five different forms of ant that are found 
there are almost innumerably different forms 
of Sdenite. I have endeavoured to indicate 
the very considerable difference observable 
in such Selenites 
of the outer 
crust as I hap- 
pened to en- 
counter ; the 
differences in 
size, hue, and 
shape were cer- 
tainly as wide as 
the differences 
between the 
most widely- 
separated races 
of men. But 
such differences 
as I saw fade 
absolutely to no- 
thing in compari- 
son with the huge 
distinctions of 
which Cavor 
tells. It Mould 
seem the exterior 
Selenites I saw 
were, indeed, 
mostly of one 
colour and occu- 
pation — rnoon- 
calf herds, 
butchers, flesh- 
ers, and the like, 
Kut within the 
moon, practically 
unsuspected by 
me, there are, it 
seems, a number 
of other sorts of 
Selenite, differing 
in size, differing 

in form, differing in power and appearance, 
and yet not different species of creatures, 
but only different forms of one species. The 
moon is, indeed, a sort of vast ant-hill, only, 
instead of there being only four or five sorts of 
ant, worker, soldier, winged male, queen, and 
slave, there are many hundred different sorts 
of Selenite, and almost every gradation 
between one sort and another. 

It would seem the discovery came upon 


Cavor very speedily- I infer rather than lea 
from his narrative that he was captured I 
the mooncalf herds under the direction 
those other Selenites who *' have larger brai 
cases (heads ?) and very much shorter leg: 
Finding he would not walk even under t 
goad, they carried him into darkness, cross 
a narrow, plank-like bridge that may ba 
been the identical bridge I had refused, a 
put him down in something that must lis 

seemed at first 
be some sort 
lift. This was I 
balloon — it t 
certainly Ik 
absolutely iiv 
ihle to us in 
darkness — a 
what had seen 
to me a m 
into the void 1 
really, no doi 
the passage of 
gangway. In 
he descended 
wards constn 
more lumin 
strata of 
moon. At 
they descen 
in silence : 
for the twi 
ings of the St 
ites — and I 
into a stir 
windy m c 
ment. In a 
while the 
found black 
had made 
eyes so sen* 
that he bega 
see more 
more of 
things a I 
him, and at 
the vague 
"Conceive an enormous cylindrical sp 
says Cavor in his seventh message, "aqi 
of a mile across, perhaps; very dimly lit a 
and then bright, with big platforms tw : 
down its sides in a spiral that vanishes a 
below in a blue profundity ; and lit even 
brightly — one could not tell how or 
Think of the well of the very largest 
staircase or lift-shaft that you have 
looked dgwrolaltTd magnify that by a huti 




Imagine it at twilight seen through blue 
gbss. Imagine yourself looking down that ; 
only imagine also you hil extraordinarily 
light and have got rid of any giddy feeling 
you might have on earth, and you will have 
the first conditions of my impression. Round 
this enormous shaft imagine a broad gallery 
running in a much steeper spiral than would 
he credible on earth, and forming a steep 
road protected from the gulf only by a little 
parapet that vanishes at last in perspective a 
couple of miles below, 

" Looking up T I saw the very fellow of the 
downward vision : it had, of course, the effect 
of looking into a very steep cone. A wind 
was blowing down the shaft, and far above I 


fancy I heard, growing fainter and fainter, the 
bellowing of the mooncalves that were being 
driven down again from their evening 
pasturage on the exterior. And up and 
down the spiral galleries were scattered 
numerous moon people, pallid, faintly self- 
luminous insects, regarding our appearance 
or busied on unknown errands. 

*' Either I fancied it or a flake of snow 
came drifting swiftly down on the icy breeze* 
And then, falling like a snowflake, a little 
figure, a little man-insect clinging to a 
parachute, drove down very swiftly towards 
the central places of the moon. 

"The big-headed Selenite sitting beside me, 
seeing me move my head with the gesture 
of one who saw f pointed with his trunk-like 
'hand' and indicated a sort of jetty coming 
into sight very far below : a little landing- 
stage, as it were, hanging into the void. As 
it swept up towards us our pace diminished 
very rapidly, and in a few moments as it 
seemed we were abreast of it and at rest. A 
mooring-rope was flung and grasped, and I 

found myself 
pulled down to 
a level with a 
great crowd of 
Selenites, who 
jostled to see 

"It was an 
incredible crowd. 
Suddenly and 
violently there 
was forced upon 
my attention the 
vast amount of 
difference there 
is amongst these 
beings of th^ 
" Indeed, there seemed 
nnt two alike in all that 
jostling multitude. They 
differed in shape, they 
differed in size ! Some 
bulged and overhung, 
some ran about among 
the feet of their fellows, 
some twined and interlaced like 
snakes. All of them had a 
grotesque and disquieting sugges- 
tion of an insect that has some- 
how contrived to mock humanity ; 
all seemed to present an incredible 
exaggeration of some particular 
feature : one had a vast right 
fore-limb, an enormous antennal 
arm, as it were ; one seemed all leg, 
poised, as it were, on stilts ; another protruded 
an enormous nose-like organ beside a sharply 
speculative eye that made him startlingly 
human until one saw* his expressionless 
mouth. One has seen punch inellos made of 
lobster claws— he was like that. The strange 
and(e 5W . tefffi5p n^t || f S fib te5i UKi 



palps) most insect-like head of the mooncalf- 
minders underwent astounding transforma- 
tions : here it was broad and low, here high 
and narrow; here its vacuous brow was drawn 
out into horns and strange features ; here it 
was whiskered and divided, and there with a 
grotesquely human profile. There were 
several brain-cases distended like bladders to 
a huge size. The eyes, too, were strangely 
varied, some quite elephantine in their small 
alertness, some huge pits of darkness. There 
were amazing forms with heads reduced to 
microscopic proportions and blobby bodies ; 
and fantastic, flimsy things that existed it 
would seem only as a basis for vast, white- 
rimmed, glaring eyes. And oddest of all, as 
it seemed to me for the moment, two or three 
of these weird inhabitants of a subterranean 
world, a world sheltered by innumerable 
miles of rock from sun or rain, carried 
umbrellas in their tentaculate hands ! — 
real terrestrial-looking umbrellas ! And then 
I thought of the parachutist I had watched 

" These moon people behaved exactly as 
a human crowd might have done in similar 
circumstances :. they jostled and thrust one 
another, they shoved one another aside, they 
even clambered upon one another to get a 
glimpse of me. Every moment they 
increased in numbers, and pressed more 
urgently upon the discs of my ushers" — 
Cavor does not explain what he means by 
this — "every moment fresh shapes forced 
themselves upon my astounded attention. 
And presently I was signed and helped into 
a sort of litter, and lifted up on the shoulders 
of strong-armed bearers and so borne over 
this seething nightmare towards the apart- 
ments that were provided for me in the 
moon. All about me were eyes, faces, 
masks, tentacles, a leathery noise like the 
rustling of beetle wings, and a great bleating 

and twittering of Selenite voices 

We gather he was taken to a " hexagonal 
apartment," and there for a space he was 
confined. Afterwards he was given a much 
more considerable liberty ; indeed, almost as 
much freedom as one has in a civilized town 
on earth. And it would appear that the 
mysterious being who is the ruler and master 
of the moon appointed two Selenites " with 
large heads " to guard and study him, and to 
establish whatever mental communications 
were possible with him. And, amazing and 
incredible as it may seem, these two 
creatures, these fantastic men-insects, these 
beings of another world, were presently 

communicating with Cavor by means of 
terrestrial speech. 

Cavor speaks of them as Phi-oo and Tsi- 
puff. Phi-oo, he says, was about 5ft high ; he 
had small, slender legs about i8in. long, and 
slight feet of the common lunar pattern. On 
these balanced a little body, throbbing with the 
pulsations of his heart He had long, soft, 
many-jointed arms ending in a tentacled grip, 
and his neck was many-jointed in the usual way, 
but exceptionally short and thick. His head, 
says Cavor — apparently alluding to some 
previous description that has gone astray in 
space — u is of the common lunar type, but 
strangely modified. The mouth has the 
usual expressionless gape, but it is unusually 
small and pointing downward, and the mask 
is reduce<j| to the size of a large flat nose- 
flap. On either side are the little hen-like 

The rest of the head is distended into a 
huge globe, and the chitinous leathery cuticle 
of the mooncalf herds thins out to a mere 
membrane, through which the pulsating 
brain movements are distinctly visible. 
He is a creature, indeed, with a tremen- 
dously hypertrophied brain, and with the 
rest of his organism both relatively and 
absolutely dwarfed." 

In another passage Cavor compares the 
back view of him to Atlas supporting the 
world. Tsi-puff, it seems, was a very similar 
insect, but his "face" was drawn out to 
a considerable length, and, the brain hyper- 
trophy being in different regions, his head 
was not round but pear : shaped, with the 
stalk downward. There were also litter- 
carriers, lop-sided beings with enormous 
shoulders, very spidery ushers, and a squat 
foot attendant in Cavor's retinue. 

The manner in which Phi-oo and Tsi-puff 
attacked the problem of speech was fairly 
obvious. They came into this " hexagonal 
cell " in which Cavor was confined, and began 
imitating every sound he made, beginning 
with a cough. He seems to have grasped 
their intention with great quickness, and to 
have begun repeating words to them and 
pointing to indicate the application. The 
procedure was probably always the same. 
Phi-oo would attend to Cavor for a space, 
then point also and say the word he had 

The first word he mastered was " man," 
and the second "Mooney" — which Cavor 
on the spur of the moment seems to 
have used instead of "Selenite" for the 
moon race. As soon as Phi-oo was assured 
of the meaning ci* a word he repeated it to 





Tsi-puff, who remembered it infallibly. They 
mastered over one hundred English nouns 
at their first session. 

Subsequently it seems they brought an 
artist with them to assist the work of explana- 
tion with sketches and diagrams — Cavor's 
drawings being rather crude. He was, says 
Cavor, "a being with an active arm and an 
arresting eye t " and he seemed to draw with 
incredible swiftness. 

The eleventh message is undoubtedly 
only a fragment of a longer communication. 
Alter some broken sentences, the record of 
which is unintelligible, it goes on : — 

" But it will interest only linguists, and 
delay me too long, to give the details of the 
series of intent parleys of which these were 
the beginning, and, indeed, I very much 
doubt if I could give in anything like the 
proper order all the twistings and turnings 
that we made in our pursuit of mutual com- 
prehension. Verbs were soon plain sailing — 
at least, such active verbs as I could express 
by drawings ; some adjectives were easy, but 
when it came to abstract nouns, to prepo- 
sitions, and the sort of hackneyed figures 
of speech by means of which so much is 
expressed on earth, it fras like diving in 
cork jackets. Indeed, these difficulties were 
insurmountable until to the sixth lesson 

Vol. ixii, — A- 


came a fourth assistant, a being 
with a huge, football -shaped 
head, whose forte was clearly 
the pursuit of intricate analogy. 
He entered in a preoccupied 
manner, stumbling against a 
stool, and the difficulties that 
arose had to be presented to 
him with a certain amount of 
clamour and hitting and prick- 
ing before they reached his 
apprehension. But once he 
was involved his penetration 
was amazing. Whenever there 
came a need of flunking be- 
yond Phi-oo's by no means 
limited scope, this prolate- 
headed person was in request, 
but he invariably told the con- 
clusion to Tsi-puff, in order 
that it might be remembered ; 
Tsi-puff was ever the arsenal 
for facts, And so we advanced 

"It seemed long and yet 
brief — a matter of days be- 
fore I was positively talking 
with these insects of the 
moon, Of course, at first 
it was an intercourse infinitely tedious 
and exasperating, but imperceptibly it has 
grown to comprehension* And my patience 
has grown to meet its limitations, Phi-oo it 
is who does all the talking. He does it with 
a vast amount of meditative provisional 
1 M'm — M'm/ and he has caught up one or 
two phrases, £ If I may say, 1 ' If you under- 
stand,' and beads all his speech with them, 

" Thus he would discourse. Imagine him 
explaining his artist, 

*' ' M'm — M'm— he— if I may say— draw, 
Eat little— drink little draw. Love draw. 
No other thing. Hate all who not draw like 
him. Angry. Hate all who draw like him 
better. Hate most people. Hate all who 
not think all world for to draw. Angry. 
M'm, All things mean nothing to him — 
only draw. He like you, .... if you 
understand . . . , New thing to draw. 
Ugly —striking. Eh ? 

" ' He ' — turning to Tsi-puff — Move re- 
member words. Remember wonderful more 
than any. Think no, draw no— remember. 
Say '■ — here he referred to his gifted assistant 
for a word — * histories — all things. He 
hear once — say ever. 1 

"It is more wonderful to me than I ever 
dreamt that anything ever could be again to 
hear these extraordinary creatures — for even 

Original from 



familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect 
of their appearance — continually piping a 
nearer approach to coherent earthly speech, 
asking questions, giving answers. I feel that 
I am casting back to the fable-hearing period 
of childhood again when the ant and the 
grasshopper talked together and the bee 
judged between them. ..." 

And while these linguistic exercises were 
going on Cavor seems to have experi- 
enced a considerable relaxation of his con- 
finement. The first dread and distrust our 
unfortunate conflict aroused was being, he 
says, "continually effaced by the deliberate 
rationality of all I do." ...."lam now 
able to come and go as I please, or I am re- 
stricted only for my own good. So it is I 
have been able to get at this apparatus, and, 
assisted by a happy find among the material 
that is littered in this enormous store-cave, I 
have contrived to dispatch these messages. 
So far not the slightest attempt has been 
made to interfere with me in this, though I 
have made it quite clear to Phi-oo that I am 
signalling to the earth. 

" ' You talk to other ? ' he asked, watching 

11 ' Others/ said I. 

" c Others/ he said c Oh, yes. Men ? ' 

" And I went on transmitting." 

Cavor was continually making corrections 
in his previous accounts of the Selenites as 
fresh facts flowed in uponhim to modify his 
conclusions, and accordingly one gives the 
quotations that follow with a certain amount 
of reservation. They are quoted from the 
ninth, thirteenth, and sixteenth messages, 
and, altogether vague and fragmentary as 
they are, they probably give as complete a 
picture of the social life of this strange 
community as mankind can now hope to 
have for many generations. 

"In the moon," says Cavor, " every citizen 
knows his place. He is born to that place, 
and the elaborate discipline of training and 
education and surgery he undergoes fits him 
at last so completely to it that he has neither 
ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it. 
4 Why should he?' Phi-oo would ask. If, 
for example, a Selenite is destined to be a 
mathematician, his teachers and trainers set 
out at once to that end. They check any 
incipient disposition to other pursuits, they 
encourage his mathematical bias with a 
perfect psychological skill. His brain grows, 
or at least the mathematical faculties of his 
brain grow, and the rest of him only so much 

by Google 

as is necessary to sustain this essential part 
of him. At last, save for rest and food, his 
one delight lies in the exercise and display of 
his faculty, his one interest in its application, 
his sole society with other specialists in his 
own line. His brain grows continually larger, 
at least so far as the portions engaging in 
mathematics are concerned ; they bulge ever 
larger and seem to suck all life and vigour 
from the rest of his frame. His limbs 
shrivel, his heart and digestive organs 
diminish, his insect face is hidden under its 
bulging contours. His voice becomes a 
mere squeak for the stating of formulae ; he 
seems deaf to all but properly enunciated 
problems. The faculty of laughter, save for 
the sudden discovery of some paradox, is 
lost to him ; his deepest emotion is the 
evolution of a novel computation. And so 
he attains his end. 

" Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a 
minder of mooncalves is from his earliest 
years induced to think and live mooncalf, 
to find his pleasure in mooncalf lore, his 
exercise in their tending and pursuit He 
is trained to become wiry and active, his 
eye is indurated to the tight wrappings, the 
angular contours that constitute a 'smart 
mooncalfishness.' He takes at last no 
interest in the deeper part of the moon ; he 
regards all Selenites not equally versed in 
mooncalves with indifference, derision, or 
hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf 
pastures, and his dialect an accomplished^ 
mooncalf technique. So also he loves his 
work, and discharges in perfect happiness 
the duty that justifies his being. And so it 
is with all sorts and conditions of Selenites — 
each is a perfect unit in a world machine . . . 

" These beings with big heads, to whom the 
intellectual labours fall, form a sort of aristo- 
cracy in this strange society, and at the head of 
them, quintessential of the moon, is that 
marvellous gigantic ganglion the Grand 
Lunar, into whose presence I am finally to 
come. The unlimited development of the 
minds of the intellectual class is rendered 
possible by the absence of any bony skull in 
the lunar anatomy, that strange box of bone 
that clamps about the developing brain of 
man, imperiously insisting c thus far and no 
farther' to all his possibilities. They fall 
into three main classes differing greatly in 
influence and respect. There are the ad- 
ministrators of whom Phi-oo was one, Selen- 
ites of considerable initiative and versatility, 
responsible each for a certain cubic content 
of the moon's bulk ; the experts like the foot- 
ball-headed thinker who are trained to 

Original from 



perform certain special operations; and the 
erudite who are the repositories of all 
knowledge. To this latter class belongs 
Tsi-puff, the first lunar professor of terrestrial 
languages. With regard to these latter it is 
X curious little thing to note that the un- 
limited growth of the lunar brain has ren- 
dered unnecessary the invention of all those 
mechanical aids to brain work which have 
distinguished the career of man. There are 
no books, no records of any 
sort, no libraries or inscrip- 
tions. All knowledge is stored 
in distended brains much as 
the honey-ants of Texas store 
honey in their distended abdo- 
mens. The lunar Somerset 
House and the lunar British 
Museum Library are collec- 
tions of living brains. . . . 

"The less specialized 
administrators, I note, do for 
the most part take a very lively 
interest in me whenever they 
encounter me. They will 
come out of the way and stare 
at me and ask questions to 
which Phi-00 will reply. I see 
them going hither and thither 
with a retinue of bearers, at- 
tendants, shouters, parachute- 
carriers, and so forth — queer 
groups to see. The experts for 
the most part ignore me com- 
pletely, even as they ignore 
each other, or notice me only 
to begin a clamorous exhibi- 
tion of their distinctive skill. 
The erudite for the most part 
are rapt in an impervious and 
apoplectic complacency from 
which only a denial of their erudition can 
rouse them. Usually they are led about by 
little watchers and attendants, and often there 
are small and active-looking creatures, small 
females usually, that I am inclined to think 
are a sort of wife to them ; but some of the 
profounder scholars are altogether too great 
for locomotion, and are carried from place to 
place in a sort of sedan tub, wabbling jellies 
of knowledge that enlist my respectful 
astonishment. I have just passed one in 
coming to this place where I am permitted 
to amuse myself with these electrical toys, a 
fast, shaven, shaky head, bald and thin- 
skinned, carried on his. grotesque stretcher. 
In front and behind came his bearers, and 
curious, almost trumpet-faced, news dissemi- 
nators shrieked his fame. 

" I have already mentioned the retinues 
that accompanied most of the intellectuals : 
ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles 
and muscles as it were, to replace the abortive 
physical powers of these hypertrophied minds. 
Porters almost invariably accompany them. 
There are also extremely swift messengers 
with spider-like legs, and * hands ' for grasping 
parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs 
that could well-nigh wake the dead. Apart 


from their controlling intelligence these 
subordinates are as inert and helpless as 
umbrellas in a stand. They exist only in 
relation to the orders they have to obey, the 
duties they have to perform. 

" The bulk of these insects, however, who 
go to and fro upon the spiral ways, who fill 
the ascending balloons and drop past me 
clinging to flimsy parachutes, are, I gather, 
of the operative class. ' Machine hands,' 
indeed, some of these are in actual nature — 
it is no figure of speech, the single tentacle 
of the mooncalf herd is replaced by huge 
single or paired bunches of three, or five, or 
seven digits for clawing, lifting, guiding, the 
rest of them no more than necessary sub- 
ordinate appendages to these important parts. 
Some, who I suppose deal with bell-striking 

by Google 

Original from 



mechanisms, have enormous, rabbit-like ears 
just behind the eyes ; some whose work lies 
in delicate chemical operations project a vast 
olfactory organ ; others again have flat feet 
for treadles with anchylozed joints; and 
others — who I have been told are glass- 
blowers— seem mere lung-bellows. But every 
one of these common Selenites I have seen 
at work is exquisitely adapted to the social 
need it meets. Fine work is done by fined- 
down workers amazingly dwarfed and neat. 
Some I could hold on the palm of my hand. 
There is even a sort of turnspit Selenite, very 
common, whose duty and only delight it is to 
supply the motive power for various small 
appliances. And to rule over these things 
and order any erring tendency there might 
be in some aberrant nature are the finest 
muscular beings I have seen in the moon, a 
sort of lunar police, who must have been 
trained from their earliest years to give a 
perfect respect and obedience to the swollen 

"The making of these various sorts of 
operative must be a very curious and 
interesting process. I am still very much in 
the dark about it, but quite recently I came 
i\pon a number of young Selenites confined 
in jars from which only the fore-limbs pro- 
truded, who were being compressed to 
become machine-minders of a special sort. 
The extended ' hand ' in this highly developed 
system of technical education is stimulated by 
irritants and nourished by injection while the 
rest of the body is starved. Phi-oo, unless I 
misunderstood him, explained that in the 
earlier stages these queer little creatures are 
apt to display signs of suffering in their 
various cramped situations, but they easily 
become indurated to their lot ; and he took 
me on to where a number of flexible-limbed 
messengers were being drawn out and broken 
in. It is quite unreasonable, I know, but 
these glimpses of the educational methods of 
these beings has affected me disagreeably. I 
hope, however, that may pass off and I may 
be able to see more of this aspect of this 
wonderful social order. That wretched- 
looking hand sticking out of its jar seemed to 
have a sort of limp appeal for lost possibili- 
ties ; it haunts me still, although, of course, 
it is really in the end a far more humane 
proceeding than our earthly method of leaving 
children to grow into human beings, and then 
making machines of them, 

"Quite recently, too — I think it was on 
the eleventh or twelfth visit I made to this 
apparatus — I had a curious light upon the 
lives of these operatives. I was being guided 

by Google 

through a short cut hither instead of going 
down the spiral and by the quays of the 
Central Sea. From the devious windings 
of a long, dark gallery we emerged into 
a vast, low cavern, pervaded by an earthy 
smell, and rather brightly lit. The light 
came from a tumultuous growth of livid 
fungoid shapes — some indeed singularly like 
our terrestrial mushrooms, but standing as 
high or higher than a man. 

" ' Mooneys eat these ? " said I to Phi-oo. 

" < Yes, food.' 

" ' Goodness me ! ' I cried, ' what's that ? * 

" My eye had just caught the figure of an 
exceptionally big and ungainly Selenite lying 
motionless among the stems, face downward. 
We stopped. 

" i Dead ? ' I asked. (For as yet I have 
seen no dead in the moon, and I have grown 

" 'No!' exclaimed Phi-oo. 'Him — worker 
— no work to do. Get little drink then- 
make sleep— till we him want. What good 
him wake, eh ? No want him walking about.' 

u ' There's another ! ' cried I. 

" And indeed all that huge extent of mush- 
room ground was, I found, peppered with 
these prostrate figures sleeping under an 
opiate until the moon had need of them. 
There were scores of them of all sorts, and 
we were able to turn over some of them, and 
examine them more precisely than I had 
been able to do previously. They breathed 
noisily at my doing so, but did not wake. 
One I remember very distinctly : he left a 
strong impression, I think, because some 
trick of the light and of his attitude was 
strongly suggestive of a drawn-up human 
figure. His fore-limbs were long, delicrte 
tentacles — he was some kind of refined 
manipulator— and the pose of his slumber 
suggested a submissive suffering. No doubt 
it was quite a mistake for me to interpret his 
expression in that way, but I did. And as 
Phi-oo. rolled him over into the darkness 
among the livid fleshiness again I felt a 
distinctly unpleasant sensation, although as 
he rolled the insect in him was confessed. 

"It simply illustrates the unthinking way 
in which one acquires habits of thought and 
feeling. To drug the worker one does not 
want and toss him aside is surely far better 
than to expel him from his factory to wander 
starving in the streets. In every compli- 
cated social community there is necessarily a 
certain intermittency in the occupation of all 
specialized labour, and in this way the 
trouble of an unemployed problem is alto- 
gether anticipated. And yet, so unreasonable 

Original from 



are even scientifically trained minds, I still 
do not like the memory of those prostrate 
forms amidst those quiet, luminous arcades 
of fleshy growth, and I avoid that short cut 
in spite of the inconveniences of its longer, 
more noisy, and more crowded alternative, 

a My alternative route takes me round by 

a huge, shadowy cavern, very crowded and 

clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of 

the hexagonal 

openings of a sort 

o f hone y com b wa I 1, 

or parading a large 

open space behind, 

or selecting the 

toys and amulets 

made to please 

them by the ace- 

phalic dainty - fin- 
gered jewellers who 

work in kennels 

below, the mothers 

of the moon-world 

— the queen bees, 

as it were* of the 

hive. They are 

noble -looking 

beings, fantastically 

and sometimes 

quite beautifully 

adorned, with a 

proud carriage and, 

save for their 

mouths, almost 
microscopic heads. 
"Of the condi- 
tion of the moon 
sexes, marrying 
and giving in mar- 
riage, and of birth 
and so forth among 
the Selenites, I 
have ns yet been 
able to learn very 
little- With the 
steady progress of 

Phi 00 in English, however, my ignorance 
will no doubt as steadily disappear, I 
am of opinion that -as with the ants and 
bees there is a large majority of the 
members in this community of the neuter 
sex. Of course on earth in our cities there 
are now many who never live that life of 
parentage which is the natural life of man. 
Here a^ with the ants, this thing has become 
a normal condition of the race, and the 



whole of such replacement as is necessary 
falls upon this special and by no means 
numerous class of matrons, the mothers of 
the moon -world, large and stalely beings 
beautifully fitted to bear the larval Selenite. 
Unless I misunderstand an explanation of 
Pfaioo's, they are absolutely incapable of 
cherishing the young they bring into the 
moon; periods of foolish indulgence alter- 
nate with moods of aggressive violence, and 

as soon as possible 
the little creatures, 
who are quite soft 
and flabby and 
pale coloured, are 
transferred to the 
charge of a variety 
of celibate females, 
women u workers ,J 
as it were, who 
in some cases 
possess brains of 
almost masculine 

Just at this 
point, unhappily, 
this message broke 
off. Fragmentary 
and tantalizing as 
the matter con- 
stituting this 
chapter is, it docs 
nevertheless give 
a vague, broad 
impression of an 
altogether strange 
and wonderful 
world — a world 
with which our 
own must now 
prepare to reckon 
very speedily. 
This intermittent 
trickle of mess- 
ages, this whisper- 
ing of a record 
the darkness of the mountain 
the first warning of such a 
human conditions as mankind 

In that 



needle in 
slopes, is 
change in 

has scarcely imagined heretofore, 
planet there are new elements, new appli- 
ances, new traditions, an overwhelming 
avalanche of new ideas, a strange race 
with whom we must inevitably struggle for 
mastery — gold as common as iron or 

(To he concluded*) 

by Google 

Original from 

His Majesty s Patent Office. 

By John Mills. 

Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new. 

That which they have done but earnest of (he ihings that they shall do. 

Nut in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward, let us range, 

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change —TENNYSON. 

HANCERY LANE, that lively 
thoroughfare between High 
Hoi born and Fleet Street, is 
about equally divided between 
students and practitioners of 
the law on the one hand and 
patent agents on the other. 

Here come the great array of inventors 
from the four corners of the earth, who 
hover about His Majesty's Patent Office 
like vultures over a dead carcass ; and 
the patent specification, till recently clothed 
in blue, is the one thing ever present in 
most offices round about Chancery 1*1110. 
I fancy many of those 
constantly engaged in 
poring over and trying 
to unravel the mysteries 
contained in these blue- 
books will sometimes 
themselves feel blue. 

As you enter the hall 
the inevitable sentry, with 
his peaked cap and blue 
frock - coat labelled 
(i Patent Office," bars 
the way. This good old 
retainer knows every man 
in the building, and 
refers you at once to 
Room No. X Y Z f and 
the floor where the person 
sought may be found. If 
you happen to be lucky, 
the object of search may 
turn up quickly ; but 
likely enough you will 
ramble for a while on a 
wild -goose chase along 
the wrong corridor and jump a time or two, 
like an escaped lunatic, out of the frying- 
pan into the fire. There is an air of bustling 
activity about the place, Decently clad, cheer- 
ful, and well -nourished officials, agents, or 
inventors constantly traverse *the corridors, 
ascend and descend the great staircase, and 
pass in and out at the hall door ; as often as 
not they carry in their hands the hlue-clad 
specification which, in effect, they have in- 
dividually married, so to speak, taken it for 
better and for worse with all its imperfections ; 
for it is to them the way to wealth, whether 


OF pica, 
Ftvtn A PKoUk hp J. fticffetf i* -Sm*. 

by Google 

the path be long or short, straight or crooked, 
pleasant or nauseating. 

Evelyn, in his diary, August 6th, 1657, 
says : M I went to see Colonel Blount, who 
showed me the application of the 'way- 
wiser 7 to a coach, exactly measuring the 
miles, and showing them by an index as 
we went on. It had three circles, one point- 
ing to the number of rods, another to the 
miles, by ten to 1,000, with all the sub- 
divisions of quarters ; very pretty and useful/' 
I cannot here trace fully the many stages 
by means of which the 1 resent system of 
granting patents grew, as the result of efforts 
to eliminate the unjust 
monopolies granted in 
past times to favourites 
of the King for services 
rendered in connection 
with the Royal cause. A 
manuscript calendar of 
patents used to he kept 
at the old Patent Office 
in Quality Court, and it 
contained a record of 
grants from the year 1617 
down to 1851 ; these have 
been printed at a cost of 
^90,000^ and copies from 
1617 to 4a te may be had 
in the sales department. 
In 1884 the Illustrated 
Journal of Patents was 
founded ; it contains only 
brief descriptions of the 
essential features of in- 
ventions with just enough 
illustration to elucidate 
the text, so that when a 
person wishes to know if an idea is novel, he 
can find out by searching this journal in about 
one-tenth the time it would take if the full 
specifications were individually consulted. 

All applications for patents must be made 
in English, and no models are required to 
demonstrate that the invention is workable. 
Provisional protection can be obtained for 
nine months at a cost of j£i t and at the end 
of that time the complete specification ijill 
require a stamp, value ^3, Every patent is 
granted for the term of fourteen years from 
the date of application, subject to the 

Original from 


payment of the prescribed annual fees, which, 
for the ten instalments, amount to ^95, 
but the annual fee gives an inventor a 
chance, at reasonable cost, of experimenting 
as to whether his novelty will succeed. Any 
person who represents that an article sold by 
him is a patented article when no patent has 
been granted for it is liable for every offence 
on summary conviction to a fine not exceed- 
ing j£S- The Patent Office does not under- 
take to give legal advice or opinions on any 
subject connected with patent law, which, 
like other taws, is left to the interpretation of 
professional men. The patent laws of this 
country make no 
provision for an 
official search as 
regards novelty, 
and ? consequently, 
British patents are 
taken out at the risk 
of applicants, who 
are expected to 
cause a search to 
be made as to the 
novelty of their in- 
ventions either 
before they make, 
or before they com- 
plete, their applica- 
tions. It is left to 
every person to 
protect his rights 
by opposition or 
otherwise, A patent 
is granted upon an 
application which 
passes the pre- 
scribed stages and 
is unopposed, 
whether the inven- 
tion be novel or not 
Every application 
for a patent passes 
throug-h known 
hands, and its pro- 
gress is always capable of being followed, so 
that it could be traced at any instant to the 
care of the particular official attending to 
it. Inventors who come to the Patent 
Office are generally ignorant of what has 
gone before, and are often quite unfamiliar 
with the, subject they are trying to im- 
prove* Sometimes by referring applicants 
to the illustrated abridgments they are 
obliged to go sadly away, though possibly 
still unconvinced that their ideas are old. 
Ladies, too, often worry the officials over 
patent ornaments or dress attachments, 

From a Pfctffl- '.. ■/ 

by Google 

Mr, Cornelius Neale Dalton, CB-, the 
Comptroller, frequently holds a court within 
the office to hear oppositions to the grants 
of patents. He sits on a rostrum, and 
the opposing j Arties are disposed on oppo- 
site sides with a barrier between them ! 
Kick my idea, kick me, is a point on 
which the inventor is rather sensitive, and 
the barrier is sometimes useful for preventing 
too close an embrace when the discussions 
become somewhat lively and the prospects 
bid fair to afford a prize-ring display where 
cool arbitration only is intended This court 
is a most useful institution, and saves large 

sums which might 
be otherwise wasted 
in litigation. Where 
a case at law might 
cost ^300, the 
Comptroller, with 
his wide experience 
and the staff of ex- 
perts in the office 
to assist him, can 
decide a case for as 
many pence, and so 
avoid a suit at law, 
I do not regard 
the Patent Office as 
a perfect national 
institution as it 
exists at present, 
but it is infinitely 
better than it was 
twenty years ago, 
and there is a 
never-flagging zeal 
among its chiefs to 
approximate nearer 
and nearer the ideal 
stage. Compared 
with what Dickens 
called the "Circum- 
locution Office," it 
is changed indeed. 
In his "Poor 
Man's Tale of a Patent," Dickens gives us a 
vivid picture of the time and trouble and 
expense involved in getting a patent through. 
He says : " Look at the Home Secretary, the 
Attorney-General, the Patent Office, the 
Engrossing Clerk, the Lord Chancellor, the 
Privy Seal, the Clerk of the Patents, the 
Lord Chancellor's Purse-Bearer, the Clerk of 
the Hanaper, the Deputy Clerk of the 
Hanaper, the Deputy Sealer, and the Deputy 
Chaff-Wax. No man in England could get 
a patent for an india-rubber band, or an iron 
hoop, without feeing all of them. Some of 

Original from 



Gwrrge rfnnut, Ltd. 

3 2 


them » over and over again. I went through 
thirty- five stages. I began with the Queen 
upon the Throne. I ended with the Deputy 
Chaff- Wax, Note, I should like to see 
the Deputy Chaff- Wax, Is it a man, 
or what is it? What I had to tell, I 
have told, I have wrote it down. I hope 
it's plain. Not so much in the handwriting 
(though nothing to boast of there) as in the 
sense of it, I will now conclude with 
Thomas Joy- Thomas said to me, when we 
parted, 'John, if the laws of this country were 
as honest as they ought to be, you would 
have come to I^ondon, 
registered an exact de- 
scription and drawing of 
your invention, paid half 
a crown or so for doing of 
it, and therein and thereby 
have got your patent.' My 
opinion is the same as 
Thomas Joy. Further, in 
William Butcher's deliver- 
ing 4 that the whole gang 
of Hanapers and ChafF- 
Waxes must be done away 
with, and that England 
has been chaffed and 
waxed sufficient/ I agree." 
At that time the officials 
were rather indifferent, 
Mr. Barnacle, junior, 
found those young gentle- 
men singeing their knees 
and gaping their weary 
way on to four o'clock, 
Inquirers were met with 
the answer : 4i Look here. 
Upon my soul, you mustn't 
come into the place say- 
ing you want to know, 
you know. 7 ' 

Applications for patents 
contrary to general law are 
refused ; as, for example, 
those relating to gambling 
and to adulteration for 
purposes of deception, such as rtiaking milk 
to look liku cream, or making the automatic 
machine give back the coin as well as the 
goods at certain intervals unknown to the 
purchaser. An inventor may take out a 
patent for almost any purpose imaginable, and 
it is therefore a great problem to classify such 
a higgledy-piggledy collection of subjects, so as 
to be convenient for reference, coming in as 
they do at the rate of about 30,000 annually, 
or 100 per day. The kernel, however, is 
taken out of each specification by the 

THE Ol.Tl 

by Google 

abridges and they are roughly divided into 
146 classes of illustrated volumes handy for 
searching rapidly, as they are as nearly as 
practicable kept up to date. It has been 
suggested to further subdivide these classified 
volumes into 7 multiplied by 146, or 1,022 ! 
At the end of last year there were about 
340,000 British specifications of patents* 
ranging from the year 1617 to igoo. The 
number of applications for patents during the 
year 1897 was 30,936, as compared with 
30,194 in 1896 and 25,065 in 1895. 

Although the number of patents applied 
for illustrates the progress 
of inventive activity, it 
does not afford any re- 
liable criterion as to the 
number which arrive at 
maturity. Out of the 
30,194 in 1896, for exam- 
ple, only 13,360 were 
completed, the rest being 
allowed to lapse after the 
nine months' protection. 
In one hundred years 
650,123 patents were 
granted in the United 
States. France comes 
next with 308,558; Eng- 
land, 278,000 ; Belgium, 
1 5 4 > ^ 5 5 ; Germany, 
126,1 14 ; Austria- Hun- 
gary, 82,933 J Canada, 
65,510; Italy, 49,990. 
Thomas A. Edison, with 
727 patents, is, perhaps, 
the most prolific of inven- 
tors. There are about 
forty other inventors each 
of whom has upwards of 
one hundred patents to 
his credit. Of 25,786 
applications for patents 
in this country in 1899, 
1 5,340 were from England 
and Wales, 3,022 the 
United States, 2,921 Ger- 
many, t,i 16 Scotland, 1,031 France, 431 
Austria, 396 Ireland, 208 Belgium, 163 
Canada, 137 Switzerland, 125 Russia, and 
113 Italy. No other country contributed as 
many as one hundred. 

The staff of skilled examiners of patent 
specifications includes men with special know- 
ledge of almost every branch of applied 
science, so that inventions upon being filed 
are relegated for attention to persons having 
the necessary competence for dealing with 
particular cases. There are also several 

Original from 




barristers in the office, and to one of these 
lam indebted for much friendly assistance 
in preparing this article. 

For a study in the evolution of libraries the 
Patent Office affords an interesting object- 
lesson. This most useful auxiliary to the 
numerous searchers after novelty began its 
career in a sort of tunnel in the old building 
which was pulled down a couple of years ago 
to make room for the fine new library 
buildings now approaching completion. A 
long table ran down the middle of the 
tunnel, and it was a rather comical scene to 
see the readers in varied attitudes rummaging 
about after knowledge under difficulties 
in the artificial light which illuminated 
that peculiar structure called by courtesy 
the library, but which some person, name 
not recorded, tickled by the peculiar 
phenomenon, christened the " drain- 
pipe, 1 ' At present the library is tem- 
porarily at Bishop *s Court, about half- 
way up Chancery Lane, on the left, and 
as a working library for applied science 
and all that con- 
cerns invention 
there is nothing 
in London to 
compare with it. 
All departments 
of technical sci- 
ence and industry 
are represented ; 
text - books and 
periodicals and 

proceedings of 
learned societies 
for each subject 
are arranged so 
that the reader 
can locate himself 
near the literature 
he wishes to study, 
and open access 
is granted to prac- 
tically all the 
library contains, 
Pens, ink, blot- 
ting - paper, and 
note - paper are 
supplied free and 
without stint, so 
that a reader may 
enter the library 
empty - handed 
and leave it with 
a complete essay 
in his possession, 
and then go to 
the A.B.C. or B.T\7\ round the corner for a 
refreshing cup of tea, feeling that he can 
afford it. 

14 An age is known by its inventions," says 
an old writer. If he meant by this that an 
age is great in proportion as its inventions 
are numerous, then he would have reckoned 
the present one great indeed. The variety 
of patents is endless, ranging from pins to 
flying machines and Keeley motors. 

Some of the specifications are very curious. 

There is a machine for washing and peeling 

potatoes, a workman's dinner-can with a 

never-cooling food-warmer, a pie-funnel, and 


^^^^~— -iBtidraHmiTLr^ ^_ — -— s^ 



crust supporter combined ; and all kinds of 
domestic appliances. 

A patent for propelling boats by means 
of windmills embodies' a good idea if 
it could only be made to work. A 
pair of windmills is arranged upon a 
vessel with hollow masts through which 
vertical shafts drive a horizontal shaft in the 
hull by bevel gearing, and motion is com- 
municated to gearing wheels which may be 
connected by a sliding clutch for propelling 
in either direction, and should one windmill 
rotate faster than the other, and make the 
boat spin round instead of moving forward, 
the second windmill is thrown out of gear. 
The preceding illustration will make this plain. 
Considering that a battleship takes such a 
tremendous amount of coal 
to keep it alive, the Admiralty 
might take a hint from this ; 
or, if they. cannot maintain 
equilibrium by thus placing 
the prime mover at the top, 
they might succeed better by 
putting the fleet on telescopic 
stilts adjustable as to depth 
of sea, and let them wade. 

Lecturers, clergymen, and 
lawyers whose memory may 
sometimes be rather trea- 
cherous will appreciate the 
genius of the inventor of the 
microphotoscope, of which 
we reproduce his own plans. 
It consists of a pair of specta- 
cles, or eye-glasses, with one 
or a number of minute photo- 
graphs arranged in or along 
the rim. The minute photo- 
graphs are placed behind suit- 
able magnifying glasses, and 
are so arranged that the eyes 
of the wearer may see either 
one or all the photographs 
without moving the specta- 
cles. They may be photo- 
graphs of written or printed matter, maps, 
views, landscapes, or any group of objects 
from which a photograph may be taken. 
Some of the uses to which the microphoto- 
scope may be put are the following : For the 
student, the series of minute photographs 
along the rim might consist of photographs of 
an epitomized grammar, history, geography, 
etc. As the rims can be changed so often as 
new microphotographs can be obtained, the 
student would be spared the trouble of carry- 
ing books about with him. A lecturer might 

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in the rims of his spectacles ; a lawyer 
his briefs, a clergyman his sermons, a tourist 
maps and views of the country he is travelling 
through, a shop-keeper a ready- reckoner, a 
doctor formulae, a musician whole pieces of 
music, and a detective criminals wanted. 

Acrobats are invited to use a patent shoe, 
soled with iron, which will enable the wearers, 
with the aid of powerful electro-magnets, 
to walk head downwards along a metallic 
ceiling like so many overgrown insects. A 
Paris invention is for making imitation 
damask by coating the linen or cotton fabric 
with celluloid and impressing patterns upon 
it. From Vienna comes the idea of a coffin- 
cover made of a material to prevent crushing 
by the weight of the earth, and to accelerate 
decomposition. Another 
patent is for the protection of 
colouring matters by a com- 
pound which rejoices in the 
name of Nitro-alphylide- 
anthraquinone. In the year 
T 599 a g** ant was made to 
Captain Thomas Hayes for 
making of instruments of war 
for ten years. It was a mili- 
tary "hold-all" to contain a 
spade, a mattock, a hatchet, 
a saw, and not omitting an 
anvil and fourteen days* vic- 
tuals. There is a proviso that 
the requirements of the 
Crown shall be supplied. In 
1604 the patentee notified 
his intention to present the 
above invention to the Crown, 
offering the Master of the 
Ordnance ^2,000 if he could 
get the invention introduced 
into the southern counties. 

During the Civil War an 
inventor applied for a patent 
for a plough and cannon com- 
bined. The handles were to 
be guns, so that if the plough- 
man were attacked he wheeled about, fired 
his gun, and, if the enemy fled, went on with 
his ploughing. 

Tommy Atkins is not ignored by the 
inventor of the present time, who comes to 
his aid in order to gradually and easily initiate 
him into the mysteries of military art. For 
this purpose the necessary instructions to 
infantry are printed on a pocket-handkerchief 
so that the attention of the user may be con- 
stantly directed to the details of the rifle 
printed thereon; the trumpet-calls are 

have lecture notes photographed and placed musically represented, and drawings illustra- 




ti?e of the attitude to be taken up or 
precautions to be observed by the soldier 
when left to his own resources are presented 
with printed instructions around the outer 
margin of the handkerchief. Getting gold 
from wheat by exchange at so many 
sovereigns per ton is plausible enough, but 
one inventor cuts up the wheat straw into 
fine square snips, and puts them in a jar of 
ordinary cold water. Allowing the steep to 
remain quiet for ten hours at a temperature 
of sgdeg, Fah + , he then strains off the liquor 
into a shallow pan, allows it to stand for 
twenty-four hours, and afterwards catches up 
the skim, allows it to dry, " so getting some 
results of films of gold." 

A rather jolly and exhilarating contrivance 
for sportsmen consists of a waterproof dress 
with a buoy or float to encircle the waist of 
the wearer. As will be siren from the annexed 
drawings, within the buoy are fitted two 
separate tight chambers of india-rubber cloth 

for protection in case of collision and to 
maintain steadiness in the water as in the 
case of a boat. The body, floated waist- 
high, can be urged forward by a screw 
propeller, and on the float is fitted an 
apparatus like enlarged duck-feet for work- 
ing like a small pair of oars or paddles. 
Four persons, as well as the operator, can 
be supported on the float without over- 
balancing it 6I For duck-shooting, where 
the use of a boat would disturb the birds, 
the dress or apparatus would enable the 
sportsman to approach almost insensibly, 
carrying his gun horizontally fixed on to 
the float by suitable fittings which protect 
the gun. This dress or apparatus is also 
adapted for use in deep-sea fishing, cross 
ing rivers, navigating, and exploring 

One of the most curious ideas I have 
come across is that of an inventor of 
"hair-scent extract." The scent or smell 
of the hair of healthy females possessing 
good digestion is said to possess ener- 
gizing and animating influences, and is 
advantageous to the health. He makes 
an extract from human hair by means of 
milk and sugar and adds a small quantity 
of the purest alcohol. The resulting liquid 
is added in drops to water used in the 
preparation of viands, etc. 

Another queer invention (here de- 
pleted) is designed to enable a person 
photographed to resemble the arms of 
the Isle of Man (three legs), by fixing 
to the person a third artificial leg 

O riginal from 

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behind. It is either strapped to the person, 
hooked on by hooks or springs, or supported 
independently as a separate article of furni- 
ture, against which the "sitter" rests or 
presses. " This photographic studio appli- 
ance will be found to have a limited use in 
acting, and possibly other trades and profes- 
sions besides photography — in fact, anywhere 
where the human figure can be advantage- 
ously made to mimic the Manx arms." 

Volcanoes, those ulcerations of the earth's 
crust which vomit liquid fire, are, according 
to one inventor, to be harnessed and applied 
to useful purposes. The volcanic heat is to 
be drawn into receptacles provided with 
tubes for distribution to public and private 
buildings, even to great distances; the in- 
vention may be applied to heating baths, 
drying-rooms, and for distilling water. The 
water of marshes is to be purified by distilla- 
tion, and "to condense it more quickly, 
ice-houses may be added to the centres." 
Really ! 

Children come in for a treat by way of 
what the inventor calls "Confectionery 
Jewellery." The object is to prevent all 
such mischiefs as the swallowing of hard 
materials used in the manufacture of jewellery 
by discarding such substances as coral, jet, 
glass, and metal, and replacing them by con- 
fectionery. Necklaces, brooches, earrings, 
and bracelets in the young wearer's untiring 
fingers and accommodating mouth will 
reduce the chances of harmful accidents, 
" and besides this, the pleasure derived from 
the wearing a pretty ornament will be sup- 
plemented by the satisfaction of enjoying a 
sweetmeat afterwards." 

To devise an instrument able to record 
automatically not only the distance travelled 
by a bicycle or other vehicle, but also the 
various directions followed ' during the 
journey and the hills ascended or descended, 
would be by many people pronounced 
impossible. However, a little piece of 
apparatus called the " pathometer " has been 
invented which claims to do all these things. 
The record of distance travelled, of course, 
presents no difficulties. The record of direc- 
tions is not so simple, but, as might be 
expected, it is obtained by means of a com- 
pass. As to ascents and declines, the problem 
is solved by a pendulum. The pathometer 
is fixed to the frame of the vehicle in such a 
way that this pendulum is free to move to 
and fro in the line of travel. Against the 
recording tape, which is carried on a drum 
that is rotated as the bicycle moves by 
the action of a " kicker " as in an ordi- 

nary cyclometer, there presses a wheel 
with sharp teeth, able to cut into the 
paper. This wheel is controlled from the 
pendulum in such a way that when the latter 
is hanging in its middle position— as it does 
when the road is quite level — the line cut in 
the tape is straight and parallel to the edges 
of the strip, but when the pendulum is swung 
forwards or backwards the line is diagonal, 
its obliquity being proportional to the steep- 
ness of the road traversed. Hence with 
a knowledge of the constants of the instru- 
ment the gradients over which the vehicle 
has passed can be easily calculated. 

lamp-posts come in for a fair share of atten- 
tion. In one case the inventor seeks to 
connect them with drains. Over the cage 
containing the light there are trays filled with 
disinfectants, so that as the sewage gas 
ascends through the lamp-post into the warm 
chamber chemical action with the disinfec- 
tants is facilitated, and the previously con- 
taminated air escapes purified. The com- 
bination lamp-post and hydrant consists of 
a lamp- post carrying the usual lantern for 
gas or electric lighting, upon the glass of 
which the word " Fire " shows out in bold 
red letters. The usual fire-alarm drum for 
either electric or telegraphic communication, 
coupling-up hose for fire purposes, for filling 
water-carts, and for street-flushing, draw-off 
tap for use on cab-ranks, or for domestic 
water supply in time of frost are attached. 

An artificial leg and foot which will enable 
a mutilated person to walk is a desideratum. 
The novelty consists in the foot being mainly 
a hollow india-rubber chamber which is 
inflated in the same way as is a bicycle tyre. 
The skeleton of the foot, so to speak, is of 
wood, and contains within it a rubber-faced 
joint which permits movements like those 
which take place at the ankle. A pair of 
rubber pneumatic pads surround the stump 
itself, so that no undue pressure is exerted 
on the tissues. It is said that a person who 
had undergone amputation of both legs 
below the knee, and who was wearing two 
of these limbs, although having little or no 
command over the knee-joint, was yet able to 
walk fairly well, and to go up and down stairs 

A mechanical duck that does everything 
except lay eggs has been invented by a 
Frenchman. The bird goes waddling in 
search of food and picks up seeds. These 
pass into its stomach through a series of 
triturations, and accomplish a process of 
digestion. It is said to be impossible to 
distinguish this cluck from a living one. It 






splashes about in the water, flaps its wings, 
and quacks most realistically. The amphibi- 
ous tricycle is also of French origin. It is 
constructed entirely of aluminium, with the 
exception of the chain and certain other 
parts, which require the use of steel. The 
wheels have enormous inflated rubber tyres, 
which make each wheel a watertight float, 
buoying up the machine on the water. The 
tricycle can be used indiscriminately on land 
or sea, and, although it does not run very 
rapidly, it may be of considerable use in 
special cases. It weighs but 661b., and sinks, 
when fully loaded, to a depth of only ift. 

You may have incandescent lamps com- 
bined with your easy chair, sofa, and bed. 
A secondary or primary battery is arranged 
under, or within, or 
at the back of any 
piece of movable 
furniture, and an 
adjustable bracket 
supports the incan- 
descent lamp, to 
which the current 
is led by wires. If 
you like a drop of 
whisky al ways 
bandy and do not 
desire to publish 
the fact, you may 
have it in an orna- 
mental cover- 
ing made so as 
to entirely con- 
ceal the flask 
from observa- 
tion, and at 
the same time 


admit of ready access to its contents. For 
example, you can keep it on your shelves or 
desk in the form of a book labelled " Legal 
Decisions, Vol I." There are trap-doors at 
the top to let out the neck of the flask, when 
raised by the finger through an aperture at 
the bottom. We give illustrations of both 
these ingenious devices. 

For the use of miners, more especially, one 
inventor makes a coiled tube containing com- 




pressed air and carried like a lady's muff, 
handy for regulating a supply of fresh air to 
persons in a poisoned atmosphere. The 
idea will be easily understood from the illus- 
tration. A hood which fits over the head 
connected with this reservoir, and thus 
only pure air is 
breathed. Means 
are adopted for 
letting out the im- 
pure air, and also a 
window for seeing 
through the hood. 

The largest speci- 
fication of an inven- 
tion ever presented 
at the Patent Office 
is next shown side 
by side with an 
ordinary specifica- 
tion. There are 
104 large sheets of 
most elaborate 
drawings, and 
enough descriptive 
letterpress to fill an 
ordinary book. I 



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an .Hv K NT,oN ^ raoKiriingmatfro have selected one 




sheet as a sample of the industry of the 
inventor. It is a foot-bridge representing a 
means of crossing from the Mansion House 
to the Bank of England, but it is, of course, 
intended to apply equally well to any other 
crowded thoroughfare. 

Kant, the philosopher, said that probably 
no really new idea ever occurs to anyone. It ■ 
is more than likely that among all the 
millions upon millions of untold ages every 
conceivable idea has presented itself to 
someone or another, and Macaulay says : 
''Truth is discovered by the highest minds 
a little before it becomes manifest to the 
multitude, This is the extent of their 
superiority. Tiny arc the first to catch and 

reflect a light 
which, without 
their assistance, 
must, in a short 
time, be visible to 
those who lie far 
beneath them/' 
Nevertheless, in- 
vention and the 
development of 
machinery consti- 
tute the mo 4 st 
striking Feature of 
the century just 
closed. Imagina- 
tion, it is true, has 
constantly antici- 
pated the slow ad- 
vance of science, and although we may smile 
at those writers who would endow mechanism 
with consciousness, "there are machines that 
have stomachs of their own, and consume 
the food themselves," I will close this 
article with a quotation from George Eliot 
in " Theophrastus Such": "What I would 
ask you is, to show me why . , , . there 
should not at length he a machine of such 
high mechanical and chemical powers that it 
would find and assimilate the material to 
supply its own waste, and then, hy a further 
evolution of internal molecular movements, 
reproduce itself by some process of fission 
or budding/' And so the speculative thinker 
shoots ahead of the workaday inventor. 





By C N. and A. M Williamson. 

CAME to England to marry 
an earl, if not a duke," said 
Sybil Fleetwood, " and I 
hope you won't try to dis- 
suade me." The girl looked 
at Lancaster over her fan, 
and her grey eyes lighted with fun, "All 
my friends— that is, my rich friends— have 
married Englishmen with titles, and Poppa 
says he supposes I had better do the same. 
Not that he loves your English aristocracy ; 
be likes men who do something for them- 
selves in the world instead of living on their 
ancestors ; but it's the thing for an American 
girl to annex a peer and— — -' J 

*" I T d given you credit for more originality,' 1 
said Lancaster. 

" Oh, I've plenty of the aboriginal savage 
in me, I assure you," the girl laughed. u I 
wish sometimes that we could go back to the 
days of marriage by capture. I should like 
a man to do something to win me: some- 
thing that other men couldn't do V* 

The young man was looking at her piquant 
profile, and she, glancing up, could not fail 
to understand the message in his eyes. Miss 
Fleetwood blushed, although she was not 
ignorant of his feelings. She and Brooke 
Lancaster, the brilliant young inventor and 
man of science, were very good friends, 
and he would cheerfully have been a great 

deal more if the girl could but be induced 
to listen to him seriously. Since the 
American heiress and her father came to 
London a few months before they had 
moved in much the same set. Attracted at 
first by her beauty, amused by her American 
frankness, these feelings had quickly de- 
veloped into others much deeper and 
stronger, and Lancaster was fathoms deep in 
love for the first time in his busy, strenuous 

" You see," Sybil went on, with a little 
embarrassment s and playing with a diamond 
bangle, "it's one's duty to make oneself 
envied at home. Ah ! Here's Lord Wey- 
bridge"; and with a nod and a smile she 
walked away with the newcomer* 

There was a cloud on Brooke Lancaster's 
clever face as he looked after the couple, 
who took a few turns in the wait/ that was 
being played by the Blue Hungarians, and 
then strolled off together to the conservatory. 
To believe that the girl was heartless would 
be to give up his belief in life and goodness ; 
he was certain that she was only masking her 
finer qualities under an affectation of frivolity ; 
but he recognised at the same time the real 
temptation that stood behind the girl's 
laughing words, and he knew the Earl of 
Wey bridge too ?.'el? not to grudge him a wife 
less *msti&Ffi^^ffc&)lP* thai fellow 



put his arm round her waist ! If she only 
knew him as we men know him ! " was his 
bitter thought as he moved away to the 

He had lighted a cigarette and was 
watching the blue rings float upwards, when 
a hand was laid upon his sleeve, and turning, 
he saw the shrewd, wrinkled face of Mr. 
Fleetwood looking into his. " Not quite 
up to the mark to-night ? " suggested the 
American. " Nothing wrong with that motor 
of yours, eh ? " 

"Oh, the motor's all right," answered 
Lancaster, with a smile ; " the best motor in 
the world, though maybe it's not the best 
taste for me to say so. It's not the motor 
that worries me." 

Brooke Lancaster's new motor, the latest 
child of his' versatile brain, had more than once 
formed the subject of discussion with the 
American, who was himself the president of 
a company recently floated to introduce a 
new motor which, the Yankees declared, 
was to beat every other out of the field. 
" My hated rival," the elder man had jokingly 
dubbed the young Englishman, and they 
had had many good-humoured arguments as 
to the merits of their respective inventions. 

" Look here," said the American, suddenly, 
after a moment's silence. "You want to 
marry my daughter, don't you?" 

" I want her more than anything in the 
world," was the quiet answer. 

" And you haven't much hope of her, eh?" 

" Not as much as I should like to have," 
Lancaster gave him back with the elder 
man's own coolness, wondering what he was 
leading up to in this abrupt way. 

" Well, she likes you. If you had a 
handle to your name she'd take you like a 
shot Or, if you could pull off some big 
thing, and * win her by capture,' as she'd put 
it. Well, you haven't the handle ; but I'll 
give you a straight tip and a chance for the 
other thing. You say your motor-car is 
going to be the fastest thing on wheels, and 
if it is, why, the inventor's bound to be a big 
man before long, and a mighty rich one. 
Prove that you can do what you boast 
you can, and you shall have my girl. I'll 
guarantee that she'll go in for that test, and 
give herself as the prize if she's fairly won." 

" What do you mean ? " asked Lancaster, 
flushing a little 

" Syb and I are going to Paris to-morrow," 
said old Fleetwood, "and Lord Weybridge 
is going with us. I shouldn't wonder if he 
meant to propose for the seventh time — and 
that's supposed to be lucky, eh ? We travel 

by Newhaven and Dieppe, as Syb hates the 
dull journey from Calais. See us off at 
Victoria, go to Newhaven on your motor, 
get across the Channel with it as you can, 
and be on the station to welcome us in 
Paris. It's a race between the railways and 
your motor. If you come out on top I'll 
believe in you, and I'll believe in your motor. 
What's more, if Syb don't love you already, 
she's the sort of girl to adore a man 
who makes such a dash to get her, and 

" Thank you," said Lancaster, shortly. 
" Yes, I'll try it. But that means I must be 
off now." 

They shook hands, and Brooke walked 
away. He scarcely saw the crowd of dancers 
in the ball-room, but he lingered a moment 
looking wistfully towards the conservatory, 
then turned and sought his hostess. He 
wanted to be alone to think. He murmured 
" Delightful evening," added something about 
" Going on somewhere," and passed from the 
brilliantly lighted house to the quiet of 
Grosvenor Square % He walked a very few 
yards slowly, then quickened his steps and 
went in the direction of Piccadilly, where he 
stopped at the door of an exclusive cltib and 
sent in his name to his rich friend, Lionel 
Dacre. By good luck Dacre was in, and a 
few moments later the two were in a snug 
corner of the smoking-room, where Lancaster 
poured out his remarkable story of old Fleet- 
wood's eccentric offer. 

Dacre gave a low whistle. " Can you do 
it?" he asked. 

" I've said I will, but I don't know. You 
see, I finished the motor only a week ago 
and I can't tell what it will do, because I've 
not yet been able to put it to a thorough 
test. The stupid restrictions on speed in 
this country have prevented me getting the 
best out of her. I meant to go to France 
this week and test the car on the good 
roads there; now I shall have an oppor- 
tunity. But to beat express trains on a long 
run when they are on level rails and have 
no trouble about steering, while I have to 
contend with gradients and traffic, and with 
such a prize as the reward — it's enough to 
break a man's nerve. I'll have a good try 
though, for I believe it would catch Sybil's 
fancy ; and she does like me. In one thing, 
Dacre, you can help me ; in fact, without 
you I'm done. I want the loan of your 
turbine yacht. You know they won't cany 
a motor-car across the Channel on the 
ordinary day passenger-boats ; you have to 
send them by cargo-boat, and that puts me 


uhiy Lnji i r 



out of the running at once, 
take me over in your yacht- 

But if you can 

u My dear fellow, I'm only too happy. 
Don't call it my yacht/* 

M You've bought it ; but for your encourage- 
ment I should never have got through the 
worry of designing and building it/' 

" What was my money against your brains? 
I believe that in the IV him you've struck 
as original an idea as you have in your new 
motor. You know the yacht's engines have 
not been fully tested either since you built 
them for me. But to-morrow well put to 
the test your two latest inventions— the 
turbine and the motor. Lucky the yacht's 
it Newhaven. Til go to Charing Cross to- 
night and wire to them to have steam up 
renmorrow ; and I'll run down by an early 
train myself to have her alongside and ready 
when you come." 

il Dacre f you're a brick ! " Lancaster 
grasped his friend's hand. M Now I must 
go t for I want to be up with the sun to over-_ 
haul the car and get everything ready. Au 
nw/> t then, till Newhaven quay, with the 
steam up, ready to slip off the moment I 
arrive —say about n.30." 

** Count on me," was Dacre's answer, 
r .an raster walked sharply 
towards his lodgings in South 
Audley Street. In crossing 
the road a brougham, rapidly 
driven, nearly ran over him. 
He leaped aside ; and the 
glare of a street lamp, shining 
into the carriage, showed him 
the sulky eyes and the heavy 
chin of Lord Wey bridge, 

" Now, why on earth has he 
left the dance so early ? :J pon- 
dered Lan caster, "Half an 
hour ago he was with her in 
the conservatory; there are at 
least ten more dances ; yet 
here he is, tearing home at 
hali-past one in the morning. 
Can she have refused him?" 
His heart beat fust at the 
thought; and when the earliest 
rays of the sun waked him 
soon after five he was dream- 
ing confusedly of a party in 
mid-Channel, with a turbine 
grinding out music while 
Sybil and Lord Weybridge 
danced on the waves. 

The famous young inventor 
was aliove all a practical man, 
and to that he owed much 

VuL xh\\- 6. 

of his success. Jumping briskly out of bed 
he tubbed and walked to his workshop in a 
neighbouring street. He was in a state of 
high excitement as he thought of all that this 
day might hold ; but the tension of his 
nerves only made him more energetic and 
resolute. He let himself into the silent 
workshop, where the duties of the day did 
not begin until nine o'clock. He went to 
the partitioned space where stood the car 
propelled by his new rotary motor, and patted 
the pneumatic tyres of the wooden wheels. 
He felt for the motor-car that was to carry 
him in the race for his love much as the 
rider feels for his horse ; and he whispered 
to it, urging it to do its best for him ; then, 
reddening at his own sentimentality, he flung 
off his coat, got into his overalls, and began 
a systematic examination of the car. 

It was but a rough wooden box on wheels, 
splashed with the mud of the last trip, with 
common leather cushions and no attempts 
at decoration or upholstery. The carriage 
did not matter ; it was the motor which was 
important. It revolutionized nil ideas of 
motor construction. By a flash of genius 
the inventor had overcome one of the greatest 
difficulties in the building of internal ex- 
plosion motors — the water- 
cooling. H^ design w;is on a 

Original from 





totally new plan— a motor that turned as it 
propelled the car, and in turning kept itself 
cool. No more water-tanks ; no more leaking 
pipes, cumbersome radiators, and pumps that 
failed to act just when they were most wanted. 
The idea was audacious ; he had worked at 
it for two years ; now it was perfect, and the 
great test was to be made to-day. 

He lifted out the bottom boards of the 
car, exposing to view the engine. Then he 
went over every part ; unscrewing pieces, 
cleaning them with petrol, oiling them with 
specially selected oil. He lay on the top of 
the car, he crawled under it ; he felt the bear- 
ings, examined the gear-wheels, tested the 
voltage of the electric accumulators, and 
adjusted the trembler of the magnetic coil. 
He took out and cleaned each one of the 
four sparking-plugs, and noted the length 
and " fatness " of the spark. Finally, he 
filled the petrol reservoir from an iron tank, 
straining the volatile liquid through a fine 
wire sieve, that no grit might get in to clog 
the carburettor ; filled the self-acting oil- 
cups with the finest lubricating oil, and 
wiped every part of the mechanism with a 
piece of dry cotton waste. Then he took 
the starting-handle, gave a turn or two, and 
the motor leaped into active, impetuous life, 
buzzing with a rhythmical hum like the 
purring of a great dynamo. Lancaster hung 
over his invention with somewhat the pride 
of a mother who hangs over the cradle of 
her first-born. He listened to the beat of 
the pistons, watched the lifting and falling of 
the valves, noted the gentle "puff, puff" of 
the exhaust. All was well and he stopped 
the engine. Then, as he fell back to take a 
more comprehensive glance at the car, he 
cannoned against someone who lad just 
turned the corner of the partition. Wheeling 
sharply, he faced Blair, his favourite mechanic, 
the man who knew more about the new- 
rotary motor than anyone except its inventor. 

Blair had been coming in like a cat He 
went white and red as his master looked at 
him. " You're early this morning/* remarked 

" Yes, sir," said Blair. " Fact is, sir, I had 
a bad dream, and thought Td come to the 
workshop and have a look round. Never 
thought I should find you here, sir." 

" I daresay not I didn't sleep well, 
either." Then quickly he told Blair of the 
expedition that was planned for the day, said 
that his services would be required on the 
trip, and, bidding him get his breakfast and 
return in an hour, Lancaster locked the work- 
shop door and went back to his room 


The boat - train for Newhaven leaves 
Victoria Station at ten in the morning. Ten 
minutes before that hour* Lancaster guided 
his car into the station-yard and drew up by 
the departure platform, leaving his mechanic 
in the car. At the door of a first-class com- 
partment he found Mr. Fleetwood and his 

" So good of you to turn up to see us off, ,, 
said Sybil. " We meet at St. Lazare again 
to-night, don't we ? " There was no hint 
in her voice that the occasion was an 
exceptional one ; no suggestion, that the 
appointment for that evening in Paris was 
not as sure as if he were travelling by the 
same train. Lancaster looked in her baffling 
eyes and smiled. " I hope to be there in 
time to see your train arrive," said he, calmly. 
At this instant Lord Weybridge bustled up 
with an armful of papers, acknowledging, 
with a chilly nod, the presence of his rival. 
The guard blew his whistle, the engine 
screamed, old Fleetwood gave his whimsical 
challenging look, Miss Fleetwood smiled, 
with brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks, and 
the train was slipping out of the station. 

Lancaster turned and walked out to the 
motor-car. His lips were set in a straight 
line, his chin advanced a little, which was a 
trick of his when there was important 
business afoot. He took his place at the 
steering-wheel, and started the car on the 
lowest speed — five miles an hour. A crowd 
had gathered round the odd-looking carriage, 
with its unfinished body ; and as it glided 
into the street some chaffing cries went after 
it. But I^ancaster did not hear; his eyes 
were on the road. To put the car at high 
speed through the traffic of London was im- 
possible. He had to wind in and out among 
cabs, waggons, bicycles ; he had to be on 
the look-out for officious policemen ready 
to swear he was going eighteen miles 
an hour when he was going eight But 
in Vauxhall Bridge Road he slipped in the 
second speed, and the car darted forward at 
fifteen miles an hour. Already he was cross- 
ing the Thames, with a long run through the 
suburbs of Brixton and Streatham before 
anything like a free road was to be had. 
Sixty miles lay before him, accomplished by 
the train in an hour and a half. With a 
clear road he would have backed himself 
against the train ; but while he dodged in 
and out among the traffic, shaving tram- 
cars, slipping in front of vehicles when he 
could, falling behind when a collision would 
be the result of pushing on, he realized 
with bitterness thai he must surely be beaten 




in this the first stage of the race. Could 
he |)ick up on the second? He dared 
not think, of that now ; but with a firm 
hand on the steering-wheel* and a ready 
i'^.it controlling the friction clutch and brake, 
he rushed on through Brixton, and once past 
it, and in the clearer road by Streatham, he 
dipped in the third speed, Like a grey- 
hound the car leaped forward* increasing in 
a few yards 
from fifteen 
to thirty 
milesan hour. 
It was risky. 
People stop- 
ped to stare 
after him, 
and some 
touted. On 
Croydon he 
had to slow 
down to the 
" legal limit," 
a sedate 
twelve miles 
an hour, but 

beyond he quickened the pace again. 
By Purley he swung to the left, quit- 
ting the main Brighton road, and 
running for the steep ascent to 
Caterham. At last he was leaving 
London behind and the open country lay 

The car took the Caterham Hill on the 
third speed, and on the more level ground he 
applied the fourth. Like a horse answering 
to the spur the car quickened with a rush to 
its full normal speed of forty-five miles an 
hour; but, as the cunning jockey keeps a 
little in reserve, so Lancaster could call on 
his engine for a still greater effort by advanc- 
ing the ** sparking n of the motor* He and 
Blair crammed their caps close down on 
their heads, as the air swept by their ears like 
a cataract. Lancaster was reckless now. He 
meant to" make up for the time lost in the 
streets of I-ondon. No one could check 
him. If a constable saw him flying lightning- 
like through the country and telegraphed 
on to have him stopped at a farther point, 
who was going to carry out the order? 
So he pushed over a little lever on the 
steering-post and the four pistons throbbed a 
vet quicker beat. It was nearly sixty miles an 
hour, faster than the boat -train ran at any 
part of its journey* A pillar of dust swirled 
behind him; farms and fields shot by like 
pictures in a cinematograph Down the long 

slope to East Grsnstead the pace was nearer 
seventy than sixty miles an hour, but he had 
to slow down to go through the streets of the 
town. Then on again, over open, undulating 
country, through Maresfield and Uckfield to 
sleepy Lewes, where caution was necessary, 
and he had to slow down to twelve miles, 
alter the wild rush from Caterham, Quitting 
Lewes, there was a winding road, with rough, 


uneven surface to Newhaven Harbour, and 
here it was not safe to travel at anything 
higher than thirty miles an hour. 

As Lancaster brought the car to a stop 
alongside the quay at Newhaven he looked 
at his watch. He had been exactly two 
hours from Victoria Station, and the boat 
had left for Dieppe half an hour ago ! He 
had come at an average speed of thirty miles 
an hour. It was a feat, considering that for 
mile after mile, through London and its long 
suburbs, through towns and villages, he had 
had to slow down to the legal limit. He 
saw Dacre's yacht lying alongside the quay, 
and next moment the owner himself was 
coming to meet him, 

"(iraml! ' i jaeulated Dacre, seizing his 
hand: "the boat left just on time: she's 
been gone only half an hour. We can over- 
take her yet, and be in Dieppe before her. 
I've had a sling arranged to lift the car on 
board, and steam's up." 

"Don't trouble about the sling," replied 
Lancaster; "there's no time for that. I'll 
drive the car on board, a 

" But, my dear fellow, the tide's low, and 
the descenri'faaiiliili'CHift it will not be safe/' 




11 That's all right, old fellow. I have 
brakes that will hold the car on any incline. 
Tell them to lay some planks on board, will 

Hastily Dacre gave directions to the men 
who were waiting to work the derrick. Broad 
planks were laid down sloping to the deck of 
the yacht below. Lancaster mounted into 
the car and drove her to the edge of the 
quay, Blair following. The descent looked 
perilously steep, and the spectators held 
their breath as the dusty car began to go 
slowly downwards. It seemed impossible 
that the brakes could hold her on that fear- 
ful gradient, but she crept down like a living 
thing, and when she came to rest on the 
deck a cheer went up in recognition of the 
pluck of the performance Five minutes 
later the yacht had cast off and was steaming 
for the harbour mouth. 

The Whim was the only pleasure craft in 
the world fitted with Lancaster's new turbine 
engines. It had been Dacre's pride to 
further his friend's ambitions, and when the 
Admiralty, with tbeir usual caution, had de- 
clined to adopt the young inventor's design, 
Dacre had begged him to fit the engines into 
a new yacht of his own, declaring that they 
would astonish the world. When the motor- 
car had been secured on deck the two went 
below to look at the turbines. One of Lan- 
caster's men, trained by him, was in charge, 
and grinned appreciatively as he pointed to 
the dial marking the number of revolutions. 
*' Fastest craft afloat, sir," he called into the 
inventor's ear. She cut the water with the 
swiftness of a torpedo-catcher, throwing up 
behind her a great curving wave. In front 
of them, when the friends went on deck 
again, they could see the Arutidel, the 
fast boat of the Brighton line, steaming 
full speed to France ; but her pace was 
sluggish compared with that of her pursuer. 
The engineers had orders to get all they 
could out of the motors, and it was clear 
that the Channel greyhound was being 
rapidly overhauled. 

With their glasses Dacre and Lancaster, 
standing on the bridge of the Whim, could 
see that everyone on the Arundel had turned 
to look at the strange craft that came flying 
after them. With every revolution of her 
propellers the Whim gained many yards, 
and within the hour of starting from New- 
haven they were within hailing distance. 
All the passengers were crowding to the 
gunwale to examine the craft that could 
so easily out-steam one of the swiftest of 
the Channel boats. Now the two ships 

were abreast, scarce fifty yards of green 
water separating them ; and, standing out 
from the crowd of faces, the only one that 
Lancaster saw was the fair face of Sybil Fleet- 

" Do you see them ? " asked Dacre. 
"She's there, with old Fleetwood on one 
side of her and Weybridge on the other. 
They seem to be looking at us. Yes, by 
Jove ; she's waving a handkerchief. I 
almost think I can see her blushing, and I'm 
certain that Weybridge is green." 

But the lover had seen the girl before his 
friend had, and kept his eyes fixed on hers 
until they faded with the rapidly- increasing 
distance. The time he had lost on the run from 
London to Newhaven was being gloriously 
made up now, and his heart beat with hope 
that he might yet win the race. The Whim 
was steaming at least half as fast again as 
the Arundel, and it was little more than a 
momentary glimpse that Lancaster had of 
the face that was all the world to him ; but 
that one look, the sight of the girl's excite- 
ment, was like wine in his veins. At 
luncheon he could hardly eat, though his 
friend pressed him to keep up his strength 
for the ordeal before him ; and he was rest- 
less until he could get on deck again and 
look for the chalk cliffs of Dieppe. All that 
was to be seen of the Arundel was a long flag 
of smoke lying along the horizon. 

Dieppe Harbour was made by the 
Whim in two and a half hours from 
Newhaven ; they had therefore gained a full 
hour and a half upon the other ship. The 
tide was low, and when the yacht was berthed 
alongside the quay Lancaster called again 
for planks to be put in position that he 
might drive the car up the improvised gang- 
way and on to French soil. He strode over 
to the car to superintend the unlashing of it, 
and his quick eye saw a thing that turned 
him pale. He stooped, snatched a pair of 
pliers from the tool-box, and seized some- 
thing that projected from the smooth surface 
of the huge tyre on one of the driving- 
wheels. With a wrench he drew out a long 
nail ; a whistle of air followed, and the huge 
tyre slowly deflated. 

The moment the yacht had touched the 
quay Blair had been sent on shore to buy a 
good supply of " benzo-moteur," a special 
French preparation of petrol, of an extremely 
volatile character. With this l^ancaster 
intended to refill his petrol-tank for the 
journey to Paris ; and as he $tood frowning 
at the nail which he had just pulled out 
Blair appeared if fo#f |<£dge of the quay above. 




His face went grey, and he hastened on 
board with a tin of " essence " under each 
arm. "Good gracious, sir,' 3 he cried when 
he saw the nail, hi it must have been lying on 
me ground at Newbaven. What a mercy it 
didnt happen on the road, when we was 
going sixty miles an hour, and how fortunate 
that you found it now, sir, before we started ! ! ' 

Lancaster called for the lifting-jack, had 
the car raised, the tyre taken ofT T and a spare 
one that he carried for such an emergency 
put into its place, and blown up with the 
foot pump. It was a delay of a quarter of 
an hour ; but every instant was precious now, 
with a run of a hundred miles to Paris 

" Shall I fill up with the new stuff, sir ? " 
asked Blair, beginning to unscrew the tap of 
the petrol-tank ; but his master told him to 
wait until they got on land, saying he could 
do that whrle the Customs formalities were 
bfiog settled ; and then, to the amazement 
of the davan&rs and loafers on the quay, he 
drove the car ashore up the steep incline, as 
he had driven it down at Newhaven. 

were drawn out and handed to liim. AH 
was ready. Dacre grasped his friend's hand 
and wished him luck ; Lancaster was in his 
place in the car, and Blair was wielding the 
starting-handle. But the motor would not start. 
Again and again Blair gave the necessary 
initial impetus; but there was no explosion 
in the cylinders ; the motor remained inerL 
Lancaster jumped down and examined the 
taps and valves. Five minutes had been 
wasted, and he could find nothing wrong. 
This time he took the starting-handle him- 
self, but with no better result. What could 
be the cause of this unexpected contretemps ? 
Carefully he followed every inch of the 
electric wire, in case the insulating material 
might be worn away by friction and u short- 
circuiting" be taking place. But all was in 
perfect order. Perhaps the valves, or one of 
them, was foul Yet that could hardly be, as 
they had been right that morning in London, 
and the run since had been comparatively 
short. A quarter of an hour waL gone. At 
this rate he should lose the advantage he had 



I ,an caster was ready for the Custom-house* 
He supplied in an instant the weight of the 
car, with its distinguishing marks, and had 
ready in his pocket-book the precise sum 
that was payable as duty for bringing the 
car into France- He whispered to the clerk 
of the dauant that he wished to start at the 
earliest possible moment for Paris, and 
pressed a louh into his hand* This expedited 
manors; in less than ten minutes the papers 

gained over the Arundel^ and should have 
to start on equal terms with the express 
train to Paris, He began to feel a sinking 
of the hearL Blair made all kinds of 
suggestions, and recommended that each 
valve should be examined. He had already 
begun to unscrew one of the inlet valves, 
when Lancaster told him to stop. He could 
not believe that anything was wrong with the 
motor which he had himself put in order that 


4 6 


morning. Therefore, the non-starting must 
be due to something that had happened later. 
Perhaps the " essence." No sooner did the 
thought frame itself than he opened the 
tap and smelt at the spirit. Then he 
seized a small measure which he carried with 
him, let some of the spirit fall into it, and 
held it up to the light. It gave off scarcely 
any appreciable vapour. 

" Is this the stuff I told you to get ? " he 
demanded of Blair. 

" The same, sir." 

"Then it's been adulterated." Lancaster 
took the densimeter from its case and let it 
float in the spirit. Dacre and the douaniers 
had gathered round. Everyone felt that 
some game was being played to which they 
had no clue ; so fierce did the Englishman 
look, so shame-faced the mechanic. The 
instrument showed that the spirit was largely 
mixed with water ; for driving a motor-car it 
was worthless. But for the course of reasoning 
that led Lancaster to think of the "essence," 
but for his complete confidence in his own 
work of the morning, he might have wasted 
an hour and more in taking to pieces the 
eight valves of the four cylinders. Now he 
had fathomed the mischief. He called for a 
bucket, opened the tap, and let all the stuff 
run out of the petrol -tank. Then he 
examined the spare tins of the " benzo- 
moteur " that he was going to carry with 
him ; saw that the orifices were properly 
sealed ; tested the contents of each tin, never- 
theless, with his densimeter, and not till 
then filled up the tank again with his own 
hands. With one turn of the starting-handle 
the motor now leaped into activity. Dacre 
breathed a great sigh of relief. He was 
verjr fond of Lancaster, and could not bear 
to see him fail. With a wave of the hand 
l^ancaster steered for the gates that led from 
the quay into the town of Dieppe, Blair 
leaped to his place beside him, and the third 
part of the race was begun. But nearly three- 
quarters of an hour had been lost of the 
advantage the Whim had gained. 

Lancaster knew well the shortest road to 
Paris, knew what turns to take to avoid the 
terrible pave which is heart-breaking to the 
automobilist. With a wind whistling about 
his ears he drove the car smartly through 
the streets of Dieppe away to the country 
beyond. The roads were broad and gently 
undulating ; and once clear of the town 
he increased the speed to its full extent. 
The car flew over the smooth surfaces 
of the French roads. He met few vehicles, 
and was able to keep to his break-neck 

pace for one kilometre after another. He 
sped through endless apple-orchards, shot 
out suddenly on to the edge of a plateau with 
a great view below him, and found himself 
rushing down a long, winding hill to the em- 
bowered town of Neufchatel. Then up a 
hill and on with the speed of an express, 
slacking only to pass through villages lying 
far apart, to Forges les Eaux. Again the 
lover's hopes were high. 

To Gournay he made splendid time and 
rattled on to Gisors, where came his first 
mistake. Instead of turning to the left 
before the railway crossing he kept straight 
on, only realizing his error when he saw 
stretch before him in a long, undulating line 
that disappeared at the horizon a terrible 
extent of pave. To attempt to traverse it 
meant delay, if not accident ; to lose time 
by retracing his steps to Gisors, and there get 
on the right road, was maddening. Perhaps 
there might be some by-road on which, by a 
dtkour, he might avoid the pavL He saw a 
man working in a field — the only living figure 
in the whole wide landscape. Stopping the 
car and jumping down he ran to talk to the 
peasant. No; there was nothing for it, he 
was told, but to return to Gisors. He was 
striding back to the car when he heard an 
exclamation from Blair, who, leaning out, 
stared down at the near wheels. The man 
turned a frightened face on his master, and 
to his dismay the inventor saw a great rent 
in the tyre of one of the steering-wheels. 

" It was that sharp stone there, sir, that 
cut it," said the man. Lancaster looked 
gloomily at the tyre, noted the clean cut of 
the gash, picked up the stone that Blair had 
pointed out, and felt its edge. Then a 
terrible suspicion flashed into his mind. He 
fixed his eyes on the face of the mechanic, 
and read guilt there. 

" Get down," commanded the master, 
grimly. The man obeyed, standing before 
him in the road. "Farther away; clear of 
the car," he ordered again ; then the inventor 
set desperately to work alone, lifted the 
automobile, took off the tyre, and put on the 
only remaining spare one. Now, if there 
were to be another puncture, it would be 
more serious — a case of repairing, not re- 
placing. When he had finished he started 
the motor and turned the car. He had not 
looked at Blair, but the mechanic came 
running forward. 

" Oh, sir, forgive me ! " he cried. " I was 
tempted ! I'm sorry now. You have always 
been good to me." 

Lancaster's hear?: was hot within him ; yet 






he looked coldly at his favourite workman. 
The very meanness of the fellow forbade that 
he should explode in anger. 

tfc How much were you to get ? " he asked, 

" A hundred pounds," was the low answer. 

Lancaster started the car, and Blair came 
running after, calling out to him to stop, say; 
ing that he would tell everything, begging 
not to be left behind, His master did not 
listen. He put on the second speed, then 
the third and fourth, and was racing back to 
Gisors* As he flashed through the landscape 
more than one mystery grew clear : Blair's 
..rly visit to the workshop, the nail in the 
tyre, the watered essence- The traitor had 
been bribed to prevent the winning of the 
race, it was not difficult to guess by whom. 

At Gisors there was a delay of five minutes 
because the railway-gate was shut ; then there 
was a long sweep to the right to Meru, neces- 
sary to avoid the pavL For the first time 
since he left Dieppe Lancaster looked at his 
watch and made a calculation, Fate favour- 
ing him. he might yet be in Paris in time ; 
but a storm was blowing up, with black 
clouds that meant rarn and greasy roads, and 
side slip — greatest peril of all to a quick- 

travelling automobile. He 
drove with one glance on the 
road, the next at the sky. 

Presently the storm broke, 
with lashing rain that nearly 
blinded him. The dust was 
turned to mud. Ijineaster 
had not abated speed ; and 
shortly, without an instant's 
warning, the car skidded, 
sliding bodily, broadside on, 
across the road. With a jerk 
of the steering - wheel the 
driver managed to right it 
before it ran into a ditch ; 
but it was a warning that he 
dared not disobey, and he 
dropped to a lower speed. 
Unless he could keep up 
his pace the contest was 
over. With tense muscles 
and eyes searching the 
roadway he sped on south 
towards Fontoise and the 
Seine. In a village a police- 
man leaped into the road 
and signalled him to stop ; 
but Lancaster was blind 
and deaf. 

At last, the suburbs of 
Paris ; and the road lay 
through Maisons Lafitte to the barrier at 
Porte Maillot If the policeman had tele 
graphed on to have him stopped he might 
be robbed of victory just as it was in his 
grasp. So, as he approached the great iron 
gates which mark the limits of Paris he 
slowed down almost to walking pace. A 
long line of country carts and other vehicles 
was moving through, stopping to submit to 
the examination ot the tKtroi officers. Rut 
another gate was half open, and Ivaneastef 
took the desperate resolve to dash through it. 
A delay here would mean defeat, and, even 
if the police were not on the look-out, the 
measuring of the ''essence " he carried in 
his tank, the formality of paying duty and 
getting a receipt, would cost him the quarter- 
hour which meant the difference between 
success and failure. Suddenly he turned 
out of the line of vehicles, pur on speed, and 
steered for the gate. A policeman saw and 
made a rush, but the car shot through as the 
gate clanged. There was a flutter among the 
clustering officials ; somebody shouted an 
order ; then a glance over his shoulder told that a policeman had mounted a 
bicycle and started in pursuit 

To the Englishman Paris was as familiar 




as London* and he steered straight for St 
Lazare Station, his face grim and set. The 
traffic was thick, the roads greasy, and more 
than once the car went waltzing out of its 
course in a way that threatened collision or 
upset. Policemen held tip their white batons 
in signal to stop; people cried after htm; 
while one courageous gendarme made as 
though he would leap into the car and effect 
an arrest; but his heart must have failed 
at the last moment, for he sprang aside as 
the car swept by. No time now to look at 
clock or watch. It was a question of 
moments. As to what might happen after- 

it WAS A Question of moments, 

wards Lancaster did not eare t so that he won 
the prize. Followed by a shouting crowd 
the Englishman steered his car into the 
courtyard of the station, leaped from it, and 
darted upstairs, his heart pounding in his 
ears, a mist before his eyes. 

A train was just puffing up* What train? 
That was the question. Had the boat -train 

come and gone ? or As he pushed on 

the ticket-collector would have stopped him 
at the barrier. Mechanically Lancaster felt 

by Google 

for a coin and thrust it into the man's hand. 
It was a sovereign. He was allowed to push 
his way through. The train was slowing 
down now, the passengers beginning to 
descend Lancaster's eyes were strained in 
their eager search. 

At this instant the door of a first-class 
coni[tartment almost in front of him was 
thrown open, though the train was not yet 
stationary. Lord Wey bridge, more active 
than ever before in his forty- five years, sprang 
out hopefully, surveying the platform. "Not 
here ! j ' Lancaster heard him exclaim. 

But Sybil Fleetwood was standing in 
the open door, her father 
looking out over her shoulder ; 
and her eyes were not for 
Wey bridge. With an ex- 
clamation that sounded like 
joy she pointed 
to a tall figure 
in a leather coat, 
grey with rain- 
streaked dust. 
The train had 
stopped and 
Lancaster hur- 
ried forward, 
his peaked cap 
in his hand. 

There was a 
sensation of 
choking in his 
throat, yet he 
managed to 
speak as quietly 
as if they were 
in a ball-room 
and he was ask- 
ing for a dance. 
"How do 
you do? ?t he 
asked, uncon- 
sciously elbowing Wey bridge aside, as if the 
earl had been a porter. i( So glad to see 
you ; so glad to be able to welcome you." 

Sybil gave him her hand and let him help 
her to descend. u And I'm glad to see you ^' 
she said, with emphasis meant for him to 
understand. He pressed the gloved fingers, 
and they answered the pressure* Eyes spoke 
what lips could not say ; and then a gendarme 
laid a heavy hand on Lancaster's shoulder, 

" I arrest you for evading the octroi and for 
furious driving," he announced in French. 

The Englishman turned upon him. "That s 
all ri^ht, my dear fellow," said he, with a 
beaming smile, 

Original from 


Lord Roseberys Turf Successes. 

By Arthur F. Meyrick. 



F Lord Rosebery's many bio- 
graphers few have ever dealt 
at any great length with his 
remarkahle turf successes. 
Most of us know that his 
mother, I^ady Stanhope, mar- 
ried the Duke of Cleve- 
land ; but it may not 
be generally known that 
as a sportsman he in- 
herits his love for horse- 
racing from the Cleve- 
lands. But one has to 
only turn up the pages of 
an old " Weatherby's " to 
find that, among many vic- 
tories, one of his lordship's 
relatives won the St l^eger 
of 1 83 1 with a colt called 
Chorister, which beat two 
dozen starters. 

Lord Rosebery's love of 
sport early developed it- 
self; indeed, apart from 
his strong liking for horse- 
racing, his Eton compan- 
ions soon saw his keenness 
for all manly pastimes. 
Ix>rd Rosehery was at Eton 
in 1S64 and the two follow- 
ing years, and I am in- 
debted to his lordship for 
the accompanying photo- 
graphs of his college days and turf career. 

Oxford to his lordship was a sort of "go 
as you please." There was a smart sport- 
ing set there during the three 
years " he was up/ 5 and racing 
seemed more in his line than 
real study. To quote the words 
of one intimately acquainted 
with him at Christ Church : 
" Oxford in Ixsrd Rosebery's 
days was not the Oxford of the 
present time. There is now no 
Bullingdon sports or running to 
Aylesbury or Moreton chases ; 
indeed, so far as district horse- 
racing is concerned, not only 
have the Port Meadow races 
long since been done away with ? 


fwn tt Photo, btf HUU ** Samukrt, 

Vol xxil-7 


From a Photo, by ifayall. 

(Uy perniissirni of the Pm 

prietnrs of Bailys 

by Google 

but the last has also been seen of those 
pleasant ^grinds.'" The " Bullingdon JJ re- 
ferred to was a sporting club, and I am 
here allowed to reproduce a most interest- 
ing photograph of a group of its members 
at that date. Of Lord Rosebery's Oxford 
companions there were in 
the hard riding division 
Mr. C. S. Newton, Lord 
Melgund, who used to 
take the assumed name 
of "Mr. Roily," and Lord 
Willoughby de Broke> 
Lord Randolph Churchill, 
Sir William M liner, Earl 
of It Chester, Sir George 
Chetwynd, Lord Lans- 
downe, Major L, Rolles- 
ton (wounded in South 
Africa, but since 
appointed on the Yeo 
manry Commission), and 
Mr, W. H. P. Jenkins, 
who, like Mr, Newton, 
Lord Willoughby de 
Broke, and Sir George 
Chetwynd, is at the present 
day a prominent member 
of the National Hunt 
Committee, Apart from 
those with keen interests 
in hunting and racing, 
the "key" to the photo- 
graph of the Bullingdon Club further shows 
many eminent names of Lord Rosebery's 
contemporaries at Oxford. 

It will be seen that Lord 
Rosebery forms a conspicuous 
figure of the Bullingdon group, 
the photograph of which was 
taken at Christ Church ; but their 
club ground, where its members 
used "to sport," was a little 
way out of Oxford— in fact, was 
held on the same ground upon 
which the barracks now stand. 
One who knew it well tells me 
that all the men of highest social 
standing belonged to the club, 
and tliey used to dine about 
three times a year in a barn. 
Original from 




JVflm (I PAoto, M 


I //Ll'!.t J rVilMI./irt. 

lent by the owner of the ground. Festive 
cricket (although many good cricketers 
played) and horse races were the chief 
amusements, and it was here that the 
"Dark Blues" 
got fit for their 
battles at Ayles- 
bury with Cam- 
bridge. Oxford 
riders were more 
numerous than 
those of Cam- 
bridge* but the 
latter was not far 
behind Oxford, 
for Mr, J. Maun- 
sell Richardson, 
a sort of Dick 
Christian, came 
over to Ayles- 
bury in that era* 
It is true that 
Lord Rosebery 
never '■ sported 
silk "himself, but 
lie took more 
than ordinary 
interest in these 
competitions ; in 
fact, he ran 
several steeple- 

chasers with varied success. It was 
at Aylesbury, one of the finest natural 
steeplechase courses in the kingdom, that 
the two Universities had most of their 


i H, Tollemachc, a Lord Rosebery. 1 A, Wilson, 4 J, H. Mouop, 5 Lord R. Chllldlill, 6 Sir A. W. 
NeeJd, 7 Sir G Chetwynd, B R, S. Fcilowei k H, T. Stourton, id R. Towneley, 11 C C. Cotes, 1? L* 
Rolled on, 13 C S. Edwards, 14 Hon. G. C, Pa. w nay, 15 I- Midslem, iti Earl of lklmt*r, tjA, H. 
Edwards iB K I J. Vyner, u> Sir W. Miliar, v*i W. A, Card well, 21 Loid Robartes, 2a Col, Kenyon- 
Mlaney, aj Hon. tt-C UTOM-enor, ?4 C. H. Poole, as A. Et, CionUiu, *-0 Hon, W, T, Ken yon, 27 J. Si. J. 
Frederick] sS R. F + Ma it! and, 20 General Pole-Care w, 30 Hon. H. E, Butler. 

/^ rtrt^i 1 ■■ Original from 




fun. Mr, C* S. Newton was the first 
man to ride and win for his lordship. 
He had the honour of wearing the delicate 
racing livery, and no more appropriate 
set of colours are registered at Old 
Burlington Street The rose and prim- 
rose hoops are a pretty combination, as 
compared with the pink and black stripe 
and cap of the Marquis of Cleveland. 
The rose and primrose is an amalgamation 
of Lord Rosebery's family names, and 
it was in 1869 that Mr, C\ S, Newton 
first put them on to ride in a steeple- 
chase confined to Oxford undergraduates, 
decided at More ton in the Marsh, It was, 
toOj a lucky start for Lord Rosebery. His 
horse, Tipperary Boy, and Mr. Newton, came 
in second; but Reveller, the winner, was 
subsequently found not qualified to run, and 
thus did Lord Rosebery win his first race. 

It has often been asked whether his lord- 
ship ever presented 
otherwise than his pre- 
sent clean-shaven and 
studious appearance ; 
but B&tfy of 1870, as 
will be seen from the 
photographs on page 
49, decides the point. 

The More ton con- 
test took place in 
February, 1869, but on 
the 18th of March of 
the same year a match 
was run* which excited 
considerable interest, between the late Sir 
William Milner and Lord Rosebery over 
two miles and a half of the Aylesbury 
country for £2$ a side. Lord Rosebery 
was represented by The Fawn, the mount 
of Mr. Newton, and Mr. Richardson rode 
Cora Pearl for Sir William. Odds of 
6 to 4 were freely betted on Lord Rosebery's 
mare, and the match, Mr Newton tells me, 
was made overnight and strengthened the 
second day's card. I well recollect Mr. 
"Dick r ' Fowler, of Broughton, weighing out 
the two undergraduates. Few could then 
have anticipated that Mr, Richardson would 
subsequently turn out the rider of two 
Grand National winners, or that Mr. New- 
ton would eventually take so prominent 
a part in the welfare of the National Hunt. 
The only thing that marred the affair 
was the rain- Mr. Richardson recollects 
this, too. He writes : " What a drenching 
Charlie Newton and myself got riding as 
fine a run race as you could wish to see, 
and I just won by a neck." Mr- Newton, 

Digitized by Google 

fVoMi a Painting 

also trusting to memory for over thirty years, 
says: u Mr. Richardson and myself lay close 
together all the way, and Sir William Milner's 
mare just stayed the longer and won by 
three parts of a length. The going was very 
deep." It was a most sportsmanlike affair, 
and perhaps inspired Lord Rosebery a few 
years later to indulge in so many similar 
contests on the flat, for in the autumn of the 
same year (1869) as The Fawn was beaten 
at Aylesbury, in a match for ^200 a side 
at Newmarket he successfully engaged a horse 
called I^das against Bads worth, This was 
perhaps more memorable than the said 
steeplechase, for at Newmarket the betting 
was even between the pair, the verdict was 
a head, and it was won by the first horse 
Lord Rosebery ever ran in the Derby, 
Subsequently his lordship was most successful 
in single-handed contests with Controversy, 
Touchct, Mars, and others. 

Before leaving 
Oxford Lord Rosebery 
sold his steeplechasers 
and took a trip abroad 
with the late Marquis 
of Bute, but he was 
soon home again and 
began to race under 
the Jockey Club rules. 
H e was very much in 
earnest. He had 
purchased the Lamb- 
ton colt, I.adas, with a 
view to Epsom. The 
horse had not been beaten as a two-year- 
old, and expectation ran high during the 
spring that the colt would carry out one 
of his lordship's much talked-of Eton wishes 
and win the Derby. But Pretender won 
for Sir Robert Jardine, and I^adas was 

Eagerly as he started flat racing, it may 
not be generally known that his lordship 
soon afterward very nearly gave up the 
pursuit. This was owing to a horse he 
owned called Mavela. At Stockton (1869} 
in a small race Mavela started a warm 
favourite, but he cut up so badly that a 
writer in the sporting Press, making comment 
on the event, touched the proud spirit and 
dignity of his lordship. Indeed, he took the 
matter as an insult, and at once declared he 
would "sell off," and it was common talk 
that Lord Rosebery 's turf career had early 
ended. Eventually, however, the newspaper 
retracted the uncalled-for remarks, but it was 
some months before he could be persuaded 
by his friends to reconsider his determination. 
Original from 


MR. C. *. NEW*inN. 

From a Phttto. by fiuttf.uhrtm 




r. -I., a Ph*t&. . r ". /.■■!.. -'hi rtti 

The first Ladas having failed, Lord Rose- 
bery was again making an effort at Epsom 
in 1876. In this year he held three 
original Derby nominations of his own. 
Neither, however, ran, but Lord Rose bery 
relied on All Heart, a half-brother to 
Don caster, which had cost a good deal 
of money as a yearling. Kisber won 
the rare ; All Heart was last, except 
three others who walked in with the 
crowd. But previous 
to All Heart, Lord 
Rosebery nearly won 
his first Derby with 
Couronne tie Fer, a 
colt he purchased 
from the late Mr. Pad- 
wick. He was second 
to George Frederick. 
In 1879, a moderate 
year, in which Sir 
Bevys won, " the rose 
and primrose * was 
placed on Visconti. 

Then, two years later, Town Moor, another 
yearling purchase, was third to Iroquois and 
Peregrine. It was just at this period that 
his lordship owned the smartest filly that ever 
carried his colours, called Kermesse. 

Before the second Ladas had achieved 
the height of Lord Rosebery's ambition the 
subject of this memoir had not been idle in 
other races of interest. Harking back to 1873, 
he had won the Gimcrack Stakes at York with 
Padoroshna, the City and Suburban with 
Aldrich and Roysterer, the July Stakes 
with Levant, the Lin- 
colnshire Handicap 
first with Controversy 
and then with 
Touchet, the Cam- 
bridgshire with La 
Merveille, the Chester 
Cup with P r u d - 
homing the Ascot 
Stakes with Rid otto, 
and the Northumber- 
land Plate with Snail, 
who also won the Liver- 
pool Cup after a des- 
perate finish with Petrarch. Controversy also 
won this event ; again, too, there was 
Vista in the Great Metropolitan at Epsom 
the same week as Roysterer won 4 * the 
City," and she also won the Great York- 
shire Handicap at Doncaster in 1883, the 
year Ijord Rosebery won his first classic 
race, the Oaks, with Bonny Jean. Then came 
a blank of about ten years, caused by a most 

Digitized by G< 

Frmn a Phftte. ht, Kinphnm, 


regrettable family loss and a spell of politics 
which led up to his lordship's office of Prime 
Minister, But Markham and Griffiths had 
kept the stud up at Men t more, and Illuminata 
in the meantime had produced the great 
I^idas, As a two-year-old he was never 
beaten, and, with the exception of the after- 
noon when Persimmon won the Prince of 
Wales, now King Edward, his first Derby, 
such a scene on Epsom Downs never 

occurred as when 
Lord Rosebery, as 
Prime M in i ster , 
walked to the weigh- 
ing-room door at the 
side of the hero who 
had just won for him 
the ambition oF his 
Eton days. It is still 
green in my memory, 
that pale face by the 
side of Hampton's 
third Derby winner as 
he entered the little 
saddling inclosure ; what a volley of cheers; 
what a raising of hats ; what excitement 
beyond words ! It was, I venture to say, 
the proudest moment of his lordship's 
life, But as the old adage says, " It never 
rains but it pours," Sir Visto did the same 
thing the very next season to Ladas. Ex- 
pectations of success were great in 1897 
with Velasquez and Chelandry, for if the 
latter won the One Thousand Guineas, 
Limasol stopped the way in the Oaks and 
Galtee More heat her in the St. Leper. It was 

Mr. (jubbins's colt 
that also prevented 
Velasquez from win- 
ning both the Two 
Thousand Guineas 
and the Derby. In 
1899 Tom Cringle's 
Ascot Stakes victory 
was the chief event 
won for Lord Rose- 
bery, and a worse 
season was that of 
1900, for the popular 
jacket on only one 
occasion first caught the judge's eye- 
In a career extending over some thirty- 
three years Lord Rosebery in attaining 
so many successes may be said to have 
employed the best of talent In his many 
chops and changes he has had some seven 
or eight trainers, and I am unable to count 
the number of jockeys who have assisted 

him in Uis efforts. When he purchased 
urigmalTronn l 


FrtttH a PhotOffmjih. 




From a Phaio. by ft. K, Shcrbom. 

A'«wmnrir«C r 

the first La das — he bred the second — 
the late James Dover became his lord- 
ship's trainer, and held the post from 1K68 
to 1876* when the horses were removed 
from that quaintly-built village of East Ilsley 
to Russley. The late Mr. Dover was in the 
zenith of his fame when he took charge of 
Lord Rosebery's racers, Lord Lyon and 
Achievement having earned a great reputa- 
tion for the Ilsley stable, But Dover did 
very little for Lord Rosebery until 1874, 
when Aldrich won the City and Suburban. 
Controversy was also one of Dover's 
best early cards ; the horse could stay 
fairly well, and he was most useful in 
the matches already 
referred to. Con- 
troversy won three, 
but the one over which 
Dover became more 
delighted was that run 
at Ascot, Well do 1 
recollect the excite- 
ment it caused It 
was one of those old- 
fashioned affairs, that 
arose out of a runaway 
victory of Lowlander 
on the first day of the 
meeting* The wagering between 
the pair was very heavy, and Low- 
lander, who was giving weight away 
to Controversy, was the favourite 
at 6 to 4 on. A close contest had 
been eagerly anticipated, but such 
did not prove to be the case ; the 
mile and a quarter was too far 
for I.owlander, and he was beaten 
a couple of lengths. 

After Lord Rosebery 's horses 
left East Ilsley, Dover had many 
good racers under his charge, 
and of these Bruce was the unluckiest 
horse to have been beaten at Epsom in 
Shotover*s Derby. Bruce's picture hangs 
on the walls of the Ilsley home, where 
also are pictures of Achievement and Lord 
Lyon ; but when once paying Dover a visit 
there I have no recollection of having seen 
any souvenir to commemorate Lord Rose- 
bery r s connection with the stable. The late 
Mr James Dover died some years ago, and 
a granite monument in the little church- 
yard on the hill above his late home and 
stables marks the career of a genial trainer 
and one of the old school, 

I^ord Rosebery's horses in training were 
in the same county when in 1877, 1878, and 
1879 they were with Mr. Robert Peck, 

lized by Google 


it Qoxht* Bournemouth, 


/> om a Phnfa. hy ffaifr.y, 

who rendered Russley famous with such as 
Bend Or and his sire Doncaster, and it 
cannot be said that he did badly in large 
handicaps during the three years he trained 
for Lord Rosebery. In 1877 the first im- 
portant races he won for his lordship were the 
New Stakes at Ascot and the victory of Snail 
over Petrarch at Liverpool already referred to, 
but the next year was not an important one* 
Attached to it there was a deal of ill-luck, 
and particularly so in the autumn, when Lord 
Rosebery respectively ran second and third 
for the Cambridgeshire with Touchet and 
Li Merveille, the pair falling against one of 
the horses of the century in Isonomy, The 

money lost here was 
however recovered in 
the spring and autumn 
of 1879, for Touchet 
won the Lincoln 
Handicap, La Mer- 
veille the Cambridge- 
shire, and Ridotto the 
Ascot Stakes. The 
end here came be- 
tween Lord Rosebery 
and Mr. Peck, and 
Robert LAnson at 
Epsom took charge of 
the horses ; Constable, as at Ilsley 
and Russley, being first jockey to 
the stable. Constable was a quiet, 
unassuming, and good - natured 
man, and a special favourite of 
both Lord and Lady Rosebery ; 
indeed, during his illness, which 
terminated fatally* her ladyship 
was a frequent visitor at Con- 
stable's home hard by The Dur- 
dans. Constable was a bright- 
eyed, intelligent jockey, and al- 
though he always finished with 
a slack rein and in a style different to that of 
Archer or the Cannons, he could always keep 
a horse straight. Constable's name is to be 
found enrolled among many of the earlier of 
1 ,ord Rosebery's turf victories. 

While Mr. Peck trained some of his lord- 
ship's horses at Russley, Robert I 'Anson had 
others at Epsom, and when at The Durdans 
Lord Rosebery often used to take his morning 
breather to the Downs to see the horses at 
work, I 'Anson had many good racers and 
jumpers under his care besides those of 
Lord Rosebery, and it is not 
curious that he trained both 
and Illuminate, the sire and 
Ladas, the Derby winner, 
nata, who-, qnly_ , ^o_n_ one 

1 &rfgll 

won one 
j I from 

a little 
dam of 
Besides Illumi- 
fur Lord 




From a J*hata. bg] 

JQIIN WATTS <i IN LADAii) AND Mh. VULlX LKACII. [tiailep, &&emnrktt. 

Rosebery, and Hampton, who then belonged 
lo Mr. Harvey, I' Anson had also noted 
horses like the National winner, Austerlitz, 
Touched Charles 
L, and Bacchus 
under his care. 
He gave up train- 
tng after his severe, 
accident at San- 
down Park in 
1 88 1. It may not 
bcgenerally known 
that I'Anson was 
born on the Mar- 
quis of Waterford's 
estate, at Water 
ford, in 1850, had 
his first ride in 
186 1, and bis first 
win three years 
later at the now 
defunct Harrow 
meeting. As a 
jockey over fences 
and hurdles he had 
few if any equals, 
and now he is one 
of the chief offi- 
cials at Sandown. 
His second son, 
born May 12th, 
1879, I may men- 
tion, was named Frvmafhotu 

Archibald Philip 
after Lord Rose- 
bery, who stood 
as his godfather. 

From Epsom his 
lordship, as a train- 
ing quarter, tried 
Newmarket, where 
he engaged Joseph 
Cannon as his pri- 
vate trainer, and 
from iftSi to 1883 
he had great suc- 
cess. Constable's 
health failing him, 
Tom Cannon was 
in possession of 
the riding, and he 
achieved feats 
upon Kermesse 
for the stable. 
Both the Cannons 
were born in Eton 
town, and it is the 
opinion of brother 
Tom that Ker- 
messe was the best racer of Lord Rosebery's 
he ever crossed. This good filly was not 
bred at Men (more* but at Blankney, and Lord 

3 y Google 


Original from 

I ftmUy, A'ttfliHivJitt.. 





From a f'lutta. hjt E flniukint 

Rosebery purchased her as a yearling, She 
won all the chief two-year-old races in 1881, 
Other good racers which Cannon prepared for 
lx>rd Rosebery were Prudhomme, Vista, the 
<fam of Sir Visto, Roysterer, and the Oaks 
victress Bonny Jean. A clever and able trainer 
is Joseph Cannon, and a fine horseman 

was Tom, But Danebury has always been 
the home of good jockeys. Besides young 

Tom, there are Mornington, Kempton, and a 

still younger brother, and we have had 

riders like Watts, S. Loates, Brown, and 

others emanating from the Hampshire 

stable ; and of this 

party Watts won Lord 
j 4 Rosebery his first 

classic race — -the Oaks 

—on Bonny Jean. The 

only Derby winner 

Tom Cannon ever rode 
4 was Shotover, and if 

you ask "Joe" his 

greatest feat he will 

probably tell you it 

occurred in 1876, when 

on Regal, after an ex- 
citing contest, he 

defeated Congress in 

the National by a neck. 
During the ten years' 

retirement of Lord 

Rosebery, Matthew 

Dawson had given up 

training, and had gone 

to live at Exning, but 

on his lordship's re- 
turn to turf affairs he 

persuaded Mr, Daw 

son to take a few of 

the M en t move bred 

ones, and he was at once rewarded 

by having Ladas. Mr Dawson naturally 

came in for a host of congratulations from 

his lordship and his many friends. Ladas 
as a two-year-old, in the hands of A. White, 
won all his four races ; but Watts was engaged 
for the three- year-old contests, and won the 
Guineas and the Derby on him. The praises of 
Mr, Dawson have too often been sung to need 
enumerating here, and it requires no words 
from my pen to eulogize the feats of a man 
who load trained twenty-eight classic winners, 
this number including eight Derbies, five 
Oaks, and half-a-dozen St. Legers* Matthew 
Dawson's four years with Lord Rosebery saw 
a second Derby and a St. I^eger winner in 
Sir Yisto, and ill- health compelled Mr. 
Dawson to seek assistance, first from Mr. 
Felix Leach and then from Mr, Walters, jun. 

Digitized by W 

Tori ChaLunEr. 

f Bj permiwtan of the fToprielfln 
of Bailtf* J/apiuint. J 

»im a rhi>tf> l*.w IV, if. 

Mr. Leach's association with Derby winners 
is somewhat remarkable. He looked after 
Melton \ he broke in Ayrshire and Sir Visto ■ 
he took Ladas to Epsom, and was with 
Richard Marsh at Egerton Lodge when 
Persimmon scored his great victory for out 
present King Edward VlL Ml Leach, whb 
is standing at the head of t^adas, with Watts 
in the saddle^ in the portrait I reproduce, has, 
to use his oft'h words, been among horses all 
his life, and he is, at the time of writing, pre- 
paring Orchid, a son of Or me, one of the 
winter fancies for the recent Derby. Mr, Leach 
was in partnership with 
Mr. Dawson at the time 
of the veteran's death. 
It was in 1896 that 
Mr. Walters, jun., took 
tharge uf the horses* 
atid he had a real good 
time that year with 
Velasquez and Chelan- 
dry. When Velasquez 
made his first and vic- 
torious dfoW in the New 
Stakes at Ascot, Lord 
Rosebery, I recollect, 
narrowly eyeing the colt 
after Ins success, turned 
to Mr. Leopold de 
Rothschild and made 
some remarks suggest- 
ive that he might turn 
out better than. I^idas. 
But both Veiasquez and 
Che la n d ry were U n 1 u cky 
to have been born in 
the same year as Galtee 
More, for Mr. Gul> 
bins's colt defeated the 
former in the Middle Park Plate, Guineas, 
and Derby, while the Irishman also disposed 
of Chelandry for the St Leger. The 
expectations formed of Velasquez were not 
realized, but he did better next season, when 
Charles Wood became jockey to Lord Rose- 
bery's stable, and at the end of 1898 the 
horses were transferred to that well-known 
rider, who has established a nice house and 
stables at Jevington, in Sussex. 

Velasquez, Wood tells me, was the best 
horse he has ever ridden for Lord Rosebery, 
and he seems a bit disheartened that the 
stock of I^das has not turned out so well as 
anticipated, But, then, there is plenty of time 
for an improvement in matters^ for I do not 
believe in the report that Lord Rosebery 
intends to altogether retire from a sport which 
so long has afforded him so much enjoyment. 



From a Photo, by 

II If Mftjhrn, 





From ft Photo, bv II It 
Hht!rbcnr*i Xetrmarirtl, 

Again looking back over Lord Rosebery T s 
racing career, it will be seen that most of our 
best jockeys, besides those already named, 
have had the honour of wearing the rose and 
primrose jacket. It was Custance who rode 
the unplaced ladas in Pretender's Derby ; it 
was the late Tom Chaloner, the rider of 
Macaroni, who steered the horse in his match 
with Bads worth ; again he piloted Padoroslma 
in the Ginicrack Stakes of 1876. Then 1 
recollect among other events Ford ham wear- 
ing the colours on Levant in the July Stakes 
at Newmarket. These jockeys whose portraits 
are here reproduced from photographs when at 
their best all earned Derby honours, Fordham 
is in the colours of the 
late Mr. Drewitt, to 
whom he served his 
apprenticeship ; Cust- 
ance in the puce and 
lilac sleeves ; and Tom 
Chaloner in the late Mr* 
R, C. Naylor's livery, 
which he wore on 
Macaroni. For the lat- 
ter's portrait I am in- 
debted to his widow, 
and mother of the 
brothers training now 
at Newmarket Mrs. Chaloner is 
very keen on the now much -dis- 
cussed subject of race-riding. In a 
letter to me she says : " I ill com- 
pare the new school to the old," 
and as regards her husband, she 
thinks for judgment of pace s 
patience, hands, coolness of head, 
and conduct 1 of a race he had no 
superiors, and boldly asserts in her 
postscript : " No American would 
have beaten him." 

As a portrait and autograph of 
the late Fred Archer so recently appeared 
in The Strand Magazine in an article 
on the Prince of Wales and his jockeys, 
it is not necessary to repeat it here, but 
he often rode for Lord Rosebery and won 
him the only important cup he was ever 
successful in — that was on Controversy 
at York in 1876, Finally I may mention 
that, of other riders, C Morbey for his lord- 
ship carried oil the City and Suburban on 
Aldrich in 1874 and the Northumberland 
Plate on Snail in 1876 ; Luke the Shrewsbury 
Handicap of 1879 on Rhidorroch ; Lemaire 
the Chester Cup of 1882 on Prudhomme; 
Gallon the City and Suburban of 1883 
on Roysterer; Fagan the Royal Hunt Cup, 
i8y6, on Quarrel ; and S. Loutes, besides 

Frotn a pkttln. .'■■. IL R. 

vi.-. 1. km- ;•[■■:! 1 >.. 
From a Phabt. b# W. F. 



the Derby and St Leger on Sir Vis to, 
steered Vista, the latters dam, to victory both 
in the Metropolitan Stakes at Epsom and 
the Great Yorkshire H ami i cap at York. 
Watts is here depicted on Ladas, taken 
shortly after the Derby. He is the only 
jockey who can boast of having won the 
Derby for a King and a Premier T. 
Loates's best successes in Lord Rosebery's 
colours were on Chelandry in the Wood- 
cote and Velasquez In the New Stakes. As 
a two-year-old A. White steered Ladas in 
four victorious races. He rode the horse in 
his trial, which took place in the presence of 
Lord Roseberyand Mr. Dawson, and White 
was engaged by his 
lordship to ride for the 
season. His lordship 
in making presents to 
his racing employes 
mostly forwards 
cheques, and White 
received over ^400 in 
presents for his services 
in 1893. 

In a great and 
honourable career like 
that of Lord Rose- 
bery a trainer and 
jockey mostly come in for all the 
praise bestowed when the horses are 
running, and especially so when they 
are winning ; but it is very few 
folks who turn a thought to the 
man who has reared and weaned 
the stock on which hundreds and 
hundreds of pounds depend In 
the early days the anxiety of the 
stud groom is as great as that of 
the trainer later on, the jockey 
coming in, perhaps, for the least lia- 
bility. Mr. Griffiths at Mentmore, 
the home of Ijord Rosebery's young stock, 
no doubt has his times of trouble, but 
he is a man of much experience and enjoys 
the fullest confidence of I,ord Rosehcry. 
Mr. Griffiths was born in 1846, and went to 
The Durdans as stud groom in 1878, but on 
the death of Mr. Mark ham he took charge 
of the Mentmore stud, Mr. Griffiths is of 
opinion that Ladas is the best race-horse 
ever owned by Lord Rosebery. 

As I have already stated. Lord Rosebery's 
career has been an extended one, starting in 
1868 ; but, not including hurdle races and 
Steeplechases, his successes on the flat have 
been very marked ; the best year being 1S96, 
when eighteen races ran to the value of 

&°m 2 - _ . . . , 

Original from 

At Simwich Port. 

By W. W. Jacobs. 




OR the next month or two 
Master Hardy's existence was 
brightened by the efforts of 
an elderly steward who made 
no secret of his intentions of 
putting an end to it. Mr. 
Wilks at first placed great reliance on the 
saw that " it is the early bird that catches the 
worm, 3 ' but lost faith in it when he found 
that it made no 
provision for 
cases in which 
the worm leaning 
from its bedroom 
w i n do w add r essed 
spirited remon- 
strances to the 
bird on the sub- 
ject of its personal 

To the anxious 
inquiries of Miss 
Nugent, Mr. 
Wilks replied 
that he was bid- 
ing his t i me* 
Every delay, he 
hinted, made it 
worse for Master 
Hardy when the 
day of retribu- 
tion should dawn, 
and although she 
pleaded earnestly 
for a little on 
account he was 
unable to meet 
her wishes. Be- 
fore that day 
came, however, 
Captain Nugent 
heard of the 

proceedings, and after a painful interview 
with the steward, during which the latter's 
failings by no means escaped attention, con- 
fined him to the house- 

An excellent reason for absenting himself 
from school was thus denied to Master 
Hardy ; but it has been well said that when 
one door closes another opens, and to his 
great satisfaction the old servant, who had 
been in poor health for some time, suddenly 

Vol. *«■.— a Copyright, igoi, by W, W. Jacobs m 


took to her bed and required his undivided 

He treated her at first with patent 
medicines purchased at the chemist's, a 
doctor being regarded by both of them as a 
piece of unnecessary extravagance; but in 
spite of four infallible remedies she got 
steadily worse. Then a doctor was called in, 
and by the time Captain Hardy returned home 
she had made a partial recovery, but was 
clearly incapable of further 
work. She left in a cab 
to accept a home with a 
niece, leaving the captain 
confronted with a problem 
which he had seen grow- 
ing for some time past 
tl I can't make up my 
mind what to do 
with you," he 
observed, regard- 
ing his son. 

"I'm very 
was the reply. 

"You're too 
said his father 
" You're running 
wild It's just 
as well poor old 
Martha has gone ; 
it has brought 
things to a head," 
"We could 
have somebody 
else," suggested 
his son. 

The captain 

shook his head. 

11 Til give up the 

house and send 

you to London to 

your Aunt Mary/' he said, slowly; "she 

doesn't know you, and once Fm at sea and 

the house given up, she won't be able to 

send you back." 

Master Hardy, who was much averse to 
leaving Sunwich and had heard accounts of 
the lady in question which referred princi- 
pally to her strength of mind, made tender 
inquiries concerning his father's comfort while 

the United S^kOHAAUUm 




41 I'll take rooms/' was the reply, "and I 
shall spend as much time as I can with you 
in London. You want looking after, my 
son ; I've heard all about you." 

His son, without inquiring as to the 
nature of the information^ denied it at once 
upon principle ; he also alluded darkly to 
his education, and shook his head over the 
effects of a change at such a critical period 
of hrs existence. 

11 And you talk too much for your age," 
was his fathers comment when he had 
finished* " A year or two with your aunt 
ought to make a nice boy of you \ there's 
plenty of room for 

He put his plans 
in hand at once, 
and a week Intuit! 
he sailed again had 
disposed of the 
house. Some of the 
furniture he kept for 
himself ; but the 
bulk of it went to 
his sister as con- 
science-money . 
Master Hardy, 
in very low 
spirits, watched 
it taken away. 
Big men in hob- 
nailed boots 
ran noisily up 
the bare stairs, 
and came down 
slowly, steering 
large pieces of 
through narrow 
passages, and 
using much 
vain repetition 
when they 
found their 

hands acting as fenders. The wardrobe, a 
piece of furniture which had been built for 
larger premises, was a particularly hard nut 
to crack, but they succeeded at last — in three 

A few of his intimates came down to see 
the last of him, and Miss Nugent, who in 
some feminine fashion regarded the move as 
a triumph for her family, passed by several 
times. It might have been chance, it might 
have been design, but the boy could not help 
noticing that when the piano, the wardrobe, 
and other fine pieces were being placed in 
the van, she was at the other end of the road, 


a position from which such curios as a broken 
washstand or a two-legged chair never failed 
to entice her. 

It was over at last. The second van had 
disappeared, and nothing wan left but a litter 
of straw and paper. The front door stood 
open and revealed desolation. Miss Nugent 
came to the gate and stared in superciliously. 
"I'm glad you're going/' she said, frankly. 
Master Hardy scarcely noticed her. One 
of his friends who concealed strong business 
instincts beneath a sentimental exterior had 
suggested souvenirs and given him a spectacle- 
glass said to have belonged to Henry VIII., 

and he was busy 
searching his pockets 
for an adequate re- 
turn. Then Captain 
Hardy came up, 
and first going over 
the empty house, 
came out and bade 
his son accompany 
him to the station. 
A minute or two 
later and they were 
out of sight ; the 
sentimentalist stood 
on the curb gloat- 
i n g over a 
newly - acquired 
penknife, and 
Miss Nugent, 
after being 
strongly re- 
proved by him 
for curiosity, 
paced slowly 
home with her 
head in the air. 
S u n w i c h 
made no stir 
over the depar- 
ture of one of 
its youthful 
citizens. Indeed, it lacked not those who 
would have cheerfully parted with two 
or three hundred more. The boy was 
quite chilled by the lameness of his exit, 
and for years afterwards the desolate 
appearance of the platform as th^ train 
steamed out occurred to him with an odd 
sense of discomfort. In all Sumvich there 
was only one person who grieved over his 
departure, and he, after keeping his memory 
green for two years, wrote off fivepence 
as a bad debt and dismissed him from his 

Two months after the Conqueror had 




sailed again Captain Nugent obtained com- 
mand of a steamer sailing between London 
and the Chinese ports- From the gratified 
lips of Mr. Wilks Sunwtch heard of this new 
craft, the particular glory of which appeared 
to be the luxurious appointments of the 
steward's quarters. Language indeed failed 
Mr. Wilks in describing it, and, pressed for 
details, he could only murmur dispiritedly 
of satin-wood, polished brass, and crimson 

Jack Nugcnl hailed his lathers departure 
wich joy. They had seen a great deal of 
each other during the 

tatter's prolonged stay _ 

ashore, and neither 
had risen in the other's 
estimation in conse- 
quence. He became 
enthusiastic over the 
sea as a profession for 
fathers, and gave him- 
self some airs over 
acquaintances less for- 
tunately placed. In 
the first flush of lib- 
erty he took to staying 
away from school, the 
education thus lost 
being only partially 
atoned for by a grown- 
up style of composition 
engendered by dictat- 
ing excuses to the easy- 
going Mrs. Kingdom, 

At seventeen he 
learnt, somewhat to his 
surprise, that his edu- 
cation was finished. 
His fat her provided 
the information and, 
simply as a matter of 
form, consulted him 
as to his views for 
the future* It was an 
important thing to decide upon at short 
notice, but he was equal to it, and, having 
suggested gold-digging as the only profession 
h L - cared for, was promptly provided hy the 
incensed captain with a stool in the local 

He occupied it for three weeks, a period 
of time which coincided to a day with his 
father's leave ashore, He left behind him 
his initials cut deeply in the lid of his desk, 
a miscellaneous collection of cheap fiction, 
and a few experiments in book-keeping 
which the manager ultimately solved with 
red ink and a ruler. 


by LiOOglC 

A slight uneasiness as to the wisdom of 
his proceedings occurred to him just before 
his father's return, but he comforted himself 
and Kate with the undeniable truth that 
after all the captain couldn't eat him. He was 
afraid, however, that the latter would be dis- 
pleased, and, with a constitutional objection 
to unpleasantness, he contrived to be out 
when he returned, leaving to Mrs. Kingdom 
the task of breaking the news. 

The captain's reply was brief and to the 

point. He asked his son whether he would 

like to go to sea, and upon receiving a 

decided answer in the 

__^ negative, at once took 

steps to send him 
there. In two days 
he had procured him 
an outfit, and within 
a week Jack Nugent, 
greatly to his own sur- 
prise, was on the way 
to Melbourne as ap- 
prentice on the barque 
Silver Stream. 

He liked it even less 
than the bank. The 
monotony of the sea 
was appalling to a 
youth of his tastes, 
and the fact that the 
skipper, a man who 
never spoke except to 
find fault, was almost 
loquacious with him 
failed to afford him 
any satisfaction. 
He liked the mates 
no better than the 
skipper, and having 
said as much one day 
to the second officer, 
had no reason after- 
wards to modify his 
opinions. He lived a 
life apart, and except for the cook, another 
martyr to fault-finding, had no society. 

In these uncongenial circumstances the 
new apprentice worked for four months as 
he had never believed it possible he could 
work. He was annoyed both at the extent 
and the variety of his tasks, the work of an 
A-B, being gratuitously included in his 
curriculum. The end of the voyage found 
him desperate, and after a hasty consultation 
with the cook they deserted together and 
went up-country* 

Letters, dealing mainly with the ideas and 
adventures of the cook, reached Sun wich at 




irregular intervals, and were eagerly perused 
by Mrs. Kingdom and Kate, but the captain 
forbade all mention of him. Then they 
ceased altogether, and after a year or two of 
unbroken silence Mrs. Kingdom asserted 
herself, and a photograph in her possession, 
the only one extant, exposing the missing 
Jack in petticoats and sash, suddenly appeared 
on the drawing-room mantelpiece. 

The captain stared, but made no com- 
ment. Disappointed in his son, he turned 
for consolation to his daughter, noting with 
some concern the unaccountable changes 
which that young lady underwent during his 
absences. He noticed a difference after 
every voyage. He left behind him on one 
occasion a nice trim little girl, and returned 
to find a creature all legs and arms. He 
returned again and found the arms less 
obnoxious and the legs hidden by a long 
skirt ; and as he complained in secret 
astonishment to his sister, she had developed 
a motherly manner in her dealings with him 
which was almost unbearable. 

44 She'll grow out of it soon," said Mrs. 
Kingdom ; " you wait and see." 

The captain growled and waited, and found 
his sister's prognostications partly fulfilled. 
The exuberance of Miss Nugent's manner 
was certainly modified by time, but she 
developed instead a quiet, unassuming habit 
of authority which he liked as little. 

"She gets made such a fuss of, it's no 
wonder," said Mrs. Kingdom, with a satisfied 
smile. "I never heard of a girl getting 
as much attention as she does ; it's a wonder 
her head isn't turned." 

" Eh ! " said the startled captain ; " she'd 
better not let me see anything of it." 

"Just so," said Mrs. Kingdom. 

The captain dwelt on these words and 
kept his eyes open, and, owing to his 
daughter's benevolent efforts on his behalf, 
had them fully occupied. He went to sea 
firmly convinced that she would do some- 
thing foolish in the matrimonial line, the 
glowing terms in which he had overheard her 
describing the charms of the new postman to 
Mrs. Kingdom filling him with the direst 

It was his last voyage. An unexpected 
windfall from an almost forgotten uncle and 
his own investments had placed him in a 
position of modest comfort, and just before 
Miss Nugent reached her twentieth birthday 
he resolved to spend his declining days 
ashore and give her those advantages of 
parental attention from which she had been 
so long debarred 

Digitized by Google 

Mr. Wilks, to the inconsolable grief of his 
shipmates, left with him. He had been for 
nearly a couple of years in receipt of an 
annuity purchased for him under the will of 
his mother, and his defection left a gap never 
to be filled among comrades who had for 
some time regarded him in the light of an 
improved drinking fountain. 


On a fine afternoon, some two months 
after his release from the toils of the sea, 
Captain Nugent sat in the special parlour of 
the Goblets. The old inn offers hospitality 
to all, but one parlour has by ancient tradi- 
tion and the exercise of self-restraint and 
proper feeling been from time immemorial 
reserved for the elite of the town. 

The captain, confident in the security of 
these unwritten regulations, conversed freely 
with his peers. He had been moved to 
speech by the utter absence of discipline 
ashore, and from that had wandered to the 
growing evil of revolutionary ideas at sea. 
His remarks were much applauded, and two 
brother-captains listened with grave respect 
to a disquisition on the wrongs of ship- 
masters ensuing on the fancied rights of 
sailor-men, the only discordant note being 
struck by the harbour-master, a man whose 
ideas had probably been insidiously sapped 
by a long residence ashore. 

44 A man before the mast," said the latter, 
fortifying his moral courage with whisky, " is 
a human being." 

" Nobody denies it," said Captain Nugent, 
looking round. 

One captain agreed with him. 

44 Why don't they act like it, then?" 
demanded the other. 

Nugent and the first captain, struck by the 
remark, thought they had perhaps been too 
hasty in their admission, and waited for 
number two to continue. They eyed him 
with silent encouragemeut 

41 Why don't they act like it, then?" re- 
peated number two, who, being a man of 
few ideas, was not disposed to waste 

Captain Nugent and his friend turned to 
the harbour- master to see how he would 
meet this poser. 

44 They mostly do," he replied, sturdily. 
44 Treat a seaman well, and he'll treat you 

This was rank heresy, and moreover seemed 
to imply something. Captain Nugent won- 
dered dismally whether life ashore would 
infect him with the same opinions. 






li What about that m&n of mine who threw 
a bdayiag-pin at me?" he demand eti 

The harbour-master quailed at the chal- 
The obvious retort was offensive. 

" I shall carry the mark with me to my 
grave, 11 added the captain, as a further induce- 
ment to him to reply. 

"I hope that you'll carry tt a long time,:' 
said the harbour-master, gracefully. 

" Here, look here, Hall ! Jl expostulated 
captain number two, starting up. 

u It's all right, Cooper/' said Nugent, 

clothes. In the midst of an impressive 
silence he set his glass upon the tahle and, 
taking a chair, drew a small day pipe from 
his pocket. 

Aghast at the intrusion, the quartette con- 
ferred with theiT eyes, a language which is 
perhaps only successful in love. Captain 
Cooper, who was usually moved to speech 
by externals, was the first to speak. 

L You've #ot a sty coming on your eye, 
Hall," he remarked. 

'* 1 daresay/' 


tt It's all right," said captain number one, 
and in a rash moment undertook to explain. 
In five minutes he had clouded Captain 
Coopers intellect for the afternoon. 

He was still busy with his self-imposed 
task when a diversion was created by the 
entrance o€ a new arrival A short, stout man 
stood for a moment with the handle of the 
door in his hand, and then came in, carefully 
bearing before him a glass of gin and water. 
It was the first time he had set foot there, 
and all understood that by this intrusion Mr. 
Daniel Kybird sought to place sea-captains 
and other dignitaries on a footing with the 
keepers of slopshops and dealers in old 

Digitized by L*OOgK* 

"If anybody's got a needle n said the 

captain, who loved minor operations. 

Nobody heeded him except the harbour- 
master, and he muttered something about 
beams and motes, which the captain failed 
to understand. The others were glaring 
darkly at Mr. Kybird, who had taken up a 
newspaper and was busy perusing it 

"Are you looking for anybody ? n demanded 
Captain Nugent, at last. 

**No," said Mr. Kybird, looking at him 
over the top of his paper. 

•'What have you come here for, then?" 
inquired the captain. 

u I come 'ere to drink two o 1 gin cold,* 




returned Mr, Kybird, with a dignity befitting 
the occupation, 

" Well, suppose you drink it somewhere 
else/' suggested the captain. 

Mr. Kybird had another supposition to 
offer, "Suppose I don't ? " he remarked* 
" I'm a respectable British tradesman, and 
my money is as good as yours. IVe as much 
right to be here as you 'ave, I've never done 
anything I'm ashamed of! " 

"And you 
never will," said 
Captain Cooper's 
friend, gri mly, 
4t not if you live 
to be a hundred" 

Mr, Kybird 
looked surprised 
at the tribute. 
"Thankee," he 
said, gratefully. 

"Well, we 
don't want you 
here/' said Cap- 
tain Nugent "We 
prefer your room 
to your com- 

Mr. Kybird 
leaned back in 
his chair and 
twisted his blunt 
features into an 
expression of 
withering con- 
tempt. Then he 
took up a glass 
and drank, and 
discovered too 
late that in the 
excitement of the 
moment he had 
made free with the speaker's whisky, 

11 Don't apologize/' interrupted the captain ; 
M it's soon remedied, 1 ' 

He took the glass up gingerly and flung 
it with a crash into the fireplace. Then he 
rang the bell 

" I've smashed a dirty glass," he said, as 
the barman entered. ** How much ? " 

The man told him, and the captain, after 
a few stern remarks about privacy and 
harpies, left the room with his friends, leaving 
the speechless Mr. Kybird gazing at the 
broken glass and returning evasive replies 
to the inquiries of the curious Charles. 

He finished his gin and water slowly. For 
months he had been screwing up his courage 
to carry that room by assault^ and this was 



by Google 

the result. He had been insulted almost in 
the very face of Charles, a youth whose 
reputation as a gossip was second to none in 

" Do you know what I should do if I was 
yon ? " said that worthy, as he entered the 
room again and swept up the broken glass* 

11 1 do not," said Mr, Kybird, with lofty 

" I shouldn't come 'ere again, that's what 

I should do," 
said Charles, 
frankly, " Next 
time hell throw 
you in the fire- 

11 Ho," said the 
heated Mr. Ky- 
bird "Ho, will 
he? I'd like to 
see J im, I'll 
make 'im sorry 
for this afore I've 
done with 'im. I'll 
learn 1m to in- 
sult a respectable 
British trades- 
man. I'll show 
him who's who." 

" What'll you 
do?" inquired 
the other. 

" Never you 
mind," said Mr. 
Kybird, who was 
not in a position 
to satisfy his 
curiosity — "never 
you mind. You 
go and get on 
with your work, 
Charles, and 
pYaps by the time your moustache 'as 
grown big enough to be seen, you'll 'ear 

** I 'card something the other day," said 
the barman, musingly ; il about you it was, 
but I wouldn't believe it." 

11 Wot was it ? " demanded the other. 
" Nothing much," replied Charles, stand- 
ing with his hand on the door-knob, » 1( but 
I wouldn't believe it of you ; I said I 
couldn't. 3 ' 

"Wot— was— it ?" insisted Mr* Kybird 
" Why, they said you once gave a man a 
fair price for a pair of trousers," said the 
barman, indignantly. 

He closed the door behind him softly, and 
Mr. Kybird, after a brief pause, opened it 




again and, more softly still, quitted the pre- 
cincts of the Goblets, and stepped across the 
road to his emporium. 

Captain Nugent, in happy ignorance of the 
dark designs of the wardrobe dealer, had 
also gone home. He was only just begin- 
ning to realize the comparative unimportance 
of a retired shipmaster, and the knowledge 
was a source of considerable annoyance to 
him. No deferential mates listened respect- 
fully to his instructions, no sturdy seamen 
ran to execute his commands or trembled 
mutinously at his wrath. The only person 
in the wide world who stood in awe of him 
was the general servant Bella, and she made 
no attempt to conceal her satisfaction at the 
attention excited by her shortcomings. 

He paused a moment at the gate and then, 
walking slowly up to the door, gave it the 
knock of a master. A foil minute passing, 
he knocked again, remembering with some 
misgivings ins stern instructions of the day 
before that the door was to be attended by 
the servant and by nobody else. He had 
seen Miss Nugent sitting at the window as he 
passed it, hut in the circumstances the fact 
gave him no comfort. A third knock was 
followed by a fourth, and then a distressed 
voke upstairs was heard calling wildly upon 
the name of Bella. 

At the fifth knock the house shook, and a 
red-faced maid with her shoulders veiled in a 
large damp towel passed hastily down the 
staircase and, slipping the catch, passed 
more hastily still upstairs again, affording the 
indignant captain a glimpse of a short striped 
skirt as it turned the landing. 

" Is there any management at all in thb 
house?" he inquired, as he entered the 

"Bella was dressing," said Miss Nugent, 
cahnly, " and you gave orders yesterday that 
nobody else was to open the door." 

"Nobody else when she's available," 
qualified faer father, eyeing her sharply. 
'* When I give orders I expect people to use 
their common sense. Why isn't my tea 
ready? It's five o'clock." 

"The clock's twenty minutes fast," said 
Kate. • 

" Who's been meddling with it ? " demanded 
her father, verifying the fact by his watch. 

Miss Nugent shook her head "It's 
gained that since you regulated it last 
night," she said, with a smile. 

The captain threw himself into an easy- 
chair, and with one eye on the clock waited 
until, at five minutes to the hour by the right 
time, a clatter of crockery sounded from the 

Digitized by GoOQle 

kitchen, and Bella, still damp, came in with 
the tray. Her eye was also on the clock, 
and she smirked weakly in the captain's 
direction as she saw that she was at least two 
minutes ahead of time. At a minute to the 
hour the teapot itself was on the tray, and 
the heavy breathing of the handmaiden in 
the kitchen was audible to alL 

" Punctual to the minute, John," said Mrs. 
Kingdom, as she took her seat at the tray. 
" It's wonderful how that girl has improved 
since you've been at home. She isn't like 
the same girL" 

She raised the teapot and, after pouring out 
a little erf the contents, put it down again and 
gave it another two minutes. At the end of 
that time, the colour being of the same un- 
satisfactory paleness, she set the pot down 
and was about to raise the lid when an 
avalanche burst into the room and, emptying 
some tea into the pot from a canister-lid, 
beat a hasty retreat. 

" Good tea and well- trained servants," 
muttered the captain to his plate. u What 
more can a man want ? " 

Mrs. Kingdom coughed and passed his 
cup ; Miss Nugent, who possessed a healthy 
appetite, serenely attacked her bread and 
butter ; conversation languished. 

** I suppose you've heard the news, John ? " 
said his sister. 

u I daresay I have," was the reply. 

"Strange he should come back after all 
these years," said Mrs. Kingdom ; " though, 
to be sure, I don't know why he shouldn't 
It's his native place, and his father lives 

"Who are you talking about ?" inquired 
the captain. 

" Why, James Hardy," replied his sister. 
"I thought you said you had heard. He's 
coming back to Sunwich and going into 
partnership with old Swann, the shipbroker. 
A very good thing for him, I should think." 

"I'm not interested in the doings of the 
Hardys," said the captain, gruffly. 

" I'm sure I'm not," said his sister, defen- 

Captain Nugent proceeded with his meal 
in silence. His hatred of Hardy had not 
been lessened by the success which had 
attended that gentleman's career, and was not 
likely to be improved by the well-being of 
Hardy junior. He passed his cup up for 
some more tea, and, with a furtive glance at 
the photograph on the mantelpiece, wondered 
what had happened to his own son. 

" I don't suppose I should know him if I 
saw him," continued Mrs. Kingdom, address- 


6 4 


ing a respectable old arm-chair \ " London is 
sure to have changed him." 

"Is this water-cress ? " inquired the capfain, 
looking up from his plate. 

" Yes. Why? 11 said Mrs. Kingdom. 

"I only wanted information/' said her 
brother^ as he deposited the salad in question 
in the slop-basin. 

Mrs, Kingdom, with a resigned expression, 
tried to catch her niece's eye and caught the 
captain's instead Miss Nugent happening to 
glance up saw her fascinated by the basilisk 
glare of the master of the house. 

"Some more tea, please," she said. 

Her aunt took her cup>and in gratitude for 
the diversion picked 
out the largest 
lumps of sugar in the 

"London changes 
so many people," 
mused the persever- 
ing lady, stirring her 
tea. "I've noticed 
it before. Why it 
is I can't say, but 
the fact remains. It 
seems to improve 
them altogether. I 
daresay that young 
Hardy n 

41 Wilt you under- 
stand that I won't 
have the Hardys 
mentioned in my 
house ? " said the 
captain* looking up. 
* l I'm not interested 
in their business, 
and I will not have 
it discussed here." 

n As you please, 
John," said his 
sister, drawing 
herself up ; M it's 
your house and 

you are master here. I'm sure I don't want 
to discuss them. Nothing was farther from 
my thoughts. You understand what your 
father says, Kate ? " 

"Perfectly, 73 said Miss Nugent. "When 
the desire to talk about the Hardys becomes 
irresistible we must go for a walk," 

The captain turned in his chair and 
regarded his daughter .steadily. She met 
his gaze with calm affection. 

" I wish you were a boy," he growled. 

" You're the only man in Sunwich who 


wishes that," said Miss Nugent, complacently, 
"and I don't believe you mean it. If you'll 
come a little closer ill put my head on your 
shoulder and convert you." 

" Kate ! " said Mrs. Kingdom, reprovingly, 
" And, talking about heads," said Miss 
Nugent, briskly, " reminds me that I want a 
new hat, You needn't look like that ; good- 
looking daughters always come expensive," 

She moved her chair a couple of inches in 
his direction and smiled alluringly. The 
captain shifted uneasily ; prudence counselled 
flight, but dignity forbade it. He stared 
hard at Mrs. Kingdom, and a smile of rare 
appreciation on that- lady's face endeavoured 

to fade slowly and 
naturally into an- 
other expression. 
The chair came 

"Don't be fool- 
ish," said the cap- 
tain, gruffly. 

The chair came 
still nearer until at 
last it touched his, 
and then Miss 
Nugent, with a sigh 
of exaggerated con- 
tent, allowed her 
head to sink grace- 
fully on his shoulder. 
" Most comfort- 
able shoulder in 
Sunwich," she mur- 
mured ; " come and 
try the other, aunt, 
and perhaps you'll 
get a new bonnet." 

Mrs. Kingdom 
hastened to reassure 
her brother. She 
would almost as 
soon have thought 
of putting her 
head on the block. 


At the same time it was quite evident that she 
was taking a mild joy in his discomfiture 
and eagerly awaiting further developments. 

11 When you are tired of this childish 
behaviour, miss," said the captain, stiffly 

There was a pause, " Kate ! M said Mrs, 
Kingdom, in tones of mild reproof, "how 
can you ? " 

"Very good," said the captain, "we'll see 
who gets tired of it first I'm in no hurry/ 1 

A delicate hut unmistakable snore rose 
from his shoulder in reply. 
(Tote continued.) Original from 


Some Old Riddle-Books. 

HEN is a jar not a door? 
When it's partly open." We 
forget who it was, bored 
wirh the repetition of the 
venerable conundrum, who 
took refuge in this perversion ; 
and we never knew who invented the original 
But this latter malefactor is dead now, and no 
earthly punishment is possible beyond the 
perversion perpetrated by the less dangerous 
criminal. It is sad to realize that once on a 
time that pitiful* doleful thing, the average 
conundrum, was regarded as the true essence 
of wit, and was handed down through gene^ 
rations who were always ready for it with a 
fresh grin. And our 
great - grandfathers 
■•utl' not fools ; on 
die contrary, some 
of them might have 
taught a trifle or two 
of wisdom to some 
of us — even the 
youngest of us — had 
circumstances per- 
mitted of a personal 
meeting, But their 
conundrums and 
their riddles ! But, 
there , let us not crow 
too loudly. For some 
of those same mad- 
dening questions 
have come down to 
us, and it has even 
been said (though 
we refuse to believe 
it) that books of 
conundrums have 
been bought quite 

To attempt to 
trace riddles to an 
origin would be an 
impossible task, and 
no part of our present 
intention- Riddles 
have been ever since man has been. But the 
farther back we go, the duller the riddles seem 
—hy the dimness of distance, probably. And, 
indeed, if we go but to the beginning of the 
last century they seem dull enough. About 
that time was published : " The Puzzle ; 

Vol *xii — 9. 

by {j 



being a choice collection of conundrums." 
There were 500 conundrums in this book — 
but no answers. The publisher was a smart 
man. To get the answer it was necessary to 
buy another book: "The Nuts Cracked," 
which was made up of answers and nothing 
else. But really, if one but dipped into the 
pages, there was little temptation to buy 
either, "Why is a picture like a member of 
Parliament? Because it is a representative n \ 
and, ^ Why is a well like a lock ? Because it 
has a spring." These are specimens of the 
conundrums, and neither is particularly 

We give the title-page of a book of 
illustrated riddles 
published about this 
timer " The True 
Trial of Understand- 
ing." You may ob 
serve a couplet by 
way of motto, to 
which the author 
with natural pride 
has placed his ini 
tials, whereby we 
learn that the lines 
are 4t By S. M." 
When you uave read 
the couplet you will 
wonder that the poet 
did not give his 
whole name, and, 
perhaps, for the sake 
of literature, you will 
be sorry. 

We proceed to 
extract a few of the 
riddles from this 
book, in facsimile. 
Here you have an- 
swer and all, with an 
illustration thrown 
in for each riddle — a 
beautiful illustration, 
as anybody may see. 
The question is 
always in verse, but the answer is plain prose. 
The first we give is from page 4, The verse 
is a bit out of repair, and the feet seem to 
have got out of some lines and squeezed 
into others, where the poetry very naturally 
tumbles over them, and falls rather flat. But 

Original from 



( 4 ) 

Q . T h e greatr ft travellers tfi at e V r were k no w& 
By ft* and land were mighty archers [wain i 
No armor proof, or fenced walls of flone, 
Could turn their arrows, bulwarks were in vain 
Thro* princes courts, and kingdoms far and 

As wdl in foreign parts as Chriftcndcm, 
Thefe travellers therr weary fteps then ftwr, 
But » the deftrts feldom come. 

A % *Tis Death and Cupid* wbofi Arrmvt 
fttrce ibrtftke walk ef Prafi, trfovng Answur 
in ati Ceum and Kingdoms in th b^itabh 

it is capital poetry for the price (the book 
cost at first a few pence only, though it is 
worth more now), and it is easier to understand 
than many more expensive qualities. But 
the picture is the interesting thing. It 
represents Death and Cupid and an Isosceles 
Triangle, The Isosceles Triangle isn't in 
the conundrum— it is given away as a supple 
ment At that time, it will be observed* 
Death not only struck people down with his 
arrows (that thing is an arrow, not an anchor), 
but he also dug their graves. (The other 

Q^ Two Calves and an Ape 

They made their efcap* 
From one chat was worie than a If right ; 

Tbey travelled together 

In all forts of weather, 
fiat often were put in a fright* 

A. '77/ a Man flying frm hisfi&Uing wift t 
tk tw$ tafou and an Apt ftgnife tht tafcts 
*f tht Ijgsand tht Naf* of his Neck, wbkb 
h trevttttng w§t txptfdU tht JPtatbu 

thing is a spade.) This was only fair. Now- 
adays we have to pay regular gravediggcrs. 
As for Cupid— but, there, look at him. 

The " Two Calves and an Ape " riddle was 
a favourite one, and it reappears in various 
forms in many old riddle-books. The legend 
can be read in our facsimile, and again the 
picture is a handsome one. Nobody could 
blame the unfortunate husband for flying 
from a wife with such a pair of hands as 
those ; nor could wonder at his dropping his 
hat and wig as he went. It is a noble wig, 
of majestic proportions— unless it is a nubbly 
boulder hurled after the fugitive by the fair 

Next we have a riddle expressed in four 
lines, in the second of which a touch of 
Kailyard dialect saves the whole thing from 
falling ruinously out of rhyme. It is a thin 
and weakly puzzle on the whole, but the hog 
is all right in the picture, and anything but 

O* To the green wood 

Full oft it hath gang'd* 
Yet yields us no goad, 

/Till decently hang'd. 

A, ft is a Hog fatttmd with Atoms ^ whith 
matt J g&ad Bacon whtn hanged a drying. 

by Google 

thin. His tail curls elegantly, and with his 
opposite extremity he sniffs at a lusty oak 
tree, nearly 3ft. high, bearing three acorns 
about the size of turnips, as well as several 
distinct leaves. The sagacious animal is 
cautiously judging the strength of the trunk 
before climbing its giddy height in search of 
those acorns. 

Now we have the whole of page 12, with 
two riddles and their sumptuous engravings 
complete. It is intended as no disrespect to 
the author of the verses when we say that the 
main interest of this page lies in the pictures. 
In the top one the sun, disguised as a 
sweep's broom, frowns discontentedly on the 
agricultural proceedings below. An under- 
taker's horse, of undue corpulence, peeps 
slily over its shoulder and winks at a 
dilapidated lump of garden fence, A 

Original from 


hatless rustic (or a piece of one) stands at 
the rear of this piece of fence, and from the 
answer to the riddle you gather that he 
intends using it as a plough* But the obese 
steed in front is wiser, and he winks again — 
with the other eye. Then below we have Sam- 
son slaying a thousand men with the ass's jaw- 
bone. Samson has forgotten his hat — it 
seems a pretiy general fashion in this 
book — hut his wig is all right, and though he 
bit knock-kneed, his broad-skirted, 

is a 

n t ( I 1 > 

*4i To ea*e men of their «re, 
' do both rend and rear 

Thrir mother's bowels (till * 

Yet iho' 1 do, 
^ There are but few 
Thit feem to take il ill. 

A, Tfi a Pkugfy whfch brtaks up tfa farvtott 
cf the Eitrthfor tktf&wttg of Corn. 

Q^ I Kv'd anrfdyM; ihtn after death, 
Berrav'd feme hundreds of their breath, 
Affifled by a triao of grief, 
To Tfhom it yielded fome relief 

A. *7Vj SampfoiTs Jawbmt &f an Afs y witb 
tobicbbejkw a th&bfund Mm > and was rthevm 
bimfelf by water Jpringng frcm the famt f when 
hi was lbirj}y w 

eighteenth-century coat is well supplied with 
buttons, as, indeed, is that of the Philistine 
at present being operated on, Samson 
* hangs this person merrily over the head 
with his weapon (which certainly looks rather 
like a fox's tail), cordially shaking hands with 
him the while. This seems a little inconsis- 
tent, but the Philistine doesn't seem to mind, 
3 rid looks casually out of the picture as 
though he found the performance rather dull. 
A second Philistine is waiting his turn just 
behind, reclining comfortably so as not to 
disturb his full-bottomed wig. The other 

Digitized by GoOQle 

By fparks of lawn finef 

I am luftily drawn* 
But not in a chariot or eo&ch i 

I fly in a word 

More fajft than « bird, 
That docs the green Jwett approach. 

A. An Arrow drawn in a Bow by a Gtnilt- 
m*n Arcber. 

998 Philistines are not visible; probably they 
have been finished off and buried out of 
hand. But from the two remaining we may 
learn many interesting lessons as to the cos- 
tume and habits and wigs of the early Philis- 
tines, to say nothing of Samson himself. 

There is a picture in this book of a 
"gentleman archer." Probably by way of 
symbolizing his social distinction he is 
accorded the honour of a hat — an honour 
almost unique in the volume. He plants his 
legs very deep in the ground — -half-way to the 
knee almost— and shoots valiantly at five 
rush-leaves — shoots standing full a yard and 
a half away, to give the rush-leaves a fair 
chance. His bow is of the Cupid pattern, 
and his arrow of the death design, as already 
exhibited in the "greatest travellers' * riddle 
on page 4. A view of the Needles rocks is 
to be perceived in the background, though you 
may consider them trees without extra charge. 

In the " Mermaid " riddle we have another 

Q. A vtf*ge fafr, 

And voice is tare, 
Affording pleaftnt cJurms \ 

Which is with us 

Moifc Ominous, 
frefiiging future harms. 

A- J Mm*ai4 % wbicb bmkms dt&ruft&B, 
fa Miriners* 

Original from 





Dull WITS; 

OK k 


Of New and Ingenious 


aspect of the Needles 
rocks, attractively em- 
bellished with droop- 
ing snowdrops (or 
perhaps the vegetables 
are wild oats) ajid sur- 
rounded by a pleas- 
ingly regular wavy sea, 
nicely crimped. 
Balanced dexterously 
on the top of the sea 
is the mermaid, doing 
something to her hair, 
but with poor success. 
The sea is much more 
neatly combed Still, 
the mermaid curls her 
tail elegantly, and lets 
the floral ornament at 
the end droop grace- 
fully downward. The 
11 voice is rare " we are 
unable to judge of, but 
we cheerfully hope that 
it is an improvement 
on the " visage fair " 
and the " pleasant 
charms." Still, nobody 
can point the finger of 
scorn at the looking- 
glass, or the fan, or the frying-pan, or what- 
ever it is, 

Now let us consider another riddle-book, 
of about the same period — "A Whetstone for 

01 Merry Books this is the Chief, 
Tis as a purging P 1 L L ; 

T6 carry off all heavy Grmf f 
And make you laugh your FiQ, 

%B%*n*m M*hmMMM*M*x**n* IfllMririr 
Printed and Sold in London, 

Nobody ever saw such 
a gooseberry-bush be- 
fore. Some even now 
may be disposed to 
call it a heaiof clover, 
or a chrysanthemum 
blossom, or a carnation , 
or a thistle-head, or a 
feather duster, or some- 
thing of that sort ; 
that is mere prejudice. 
It may have been a 
carnation or a mop 
originally, but when 
the woodcut had served 
its turn, and the printer 
needed an illustration 
of a gooseberry -bush 
and couldn't find it, the 
thistle -head or cauli- 
flower immediately 
became a gooseberry- 
bush, and has re- 
mained SO to this day ; 
a notable example of 
vegetable evolution. 

Nest there is the 
"Herring" riddle. The 
supplementary puzzle 
here is to find where 
some of the rhymes have got to + " lfcer T 
and ** lack " do not rhyme, according to the 
arbitrary rules usually observed. Was it a 



t 3 > 

jj). While I do flourifh here on earth, 
By me my young ones nourifhtd are % 

I have a ihoufand at abirth, 
And yet I take no thought nor care 


A, A GwftbitryBiifh. 

Dull Wits ; or, a Poesy of New and Ingenious 
Riddles/' There is a verse on the title page 
of this book too, but the poet has not signed 
it this time. Here again most of the merri- 
ment is thrown in as an extra, and belongs 
to the pictures. On page 3, for instance, 
the riddle about the gooseberry - bush is 
scarcely brilliant, and the rhymes are in a 
ruinous state. But the picture redeems all. 

% THo* it be cold I wear m deaths* 
Thefroft and foow 1 never tear, 

I value neither Ihoes nor infc t 
And yet I wander far and near ; 

Borh meat and drrnk ir* always fret* 
I drink no cyder, mum, nor beer, 

What Providence doth fend to me, 
1 neither buy, nor fell, nor lack. 

A, A Herring jwimning in the Sea* 

by Google 

Original from 


subtle dodge of the poet's to catch the pub- 
lishers eye, and hint to him his lamentable 
lack of beer, and of the wherewithal to buy 
it ? At any rate, the herring is plain enough, 
though the hypercritical might object that it 

^ I have a if id, bur ne'er an eye, 
1 have no legs, but wings to fly ; 
When on an errand I am lent, 
I cleave the very rleoient* 

^^ ^_ ^a=jjfi friTMj. ¥■ ^^7 z ■ — ~s 

A. A $€uBe?s Beat, the ratf#r\r the £fc- 
»w/ f the Saukrj *re the wings* 

Here the poetry is of superior workmanship. 
The rhymes nobody can impugn, and the 
lines are almost free from lameness — just a 
trifle stiff in the joints, perhaps, but no more. 
Observe the fine imagery of the third line, 
" Many persons to him flow'd, 17 " Flow'd " 
is admirable. In the picture three gentle 
men are about to fling things at the victim, 
but they all obligingly stop and pose in 

£, There wai a fight near Charing Crofs, 
A creature almoft like a Norte; 
But when 1 came the beaft to fee. 
The head was where the Tail fliould be. 

b swimming on the sea rather than in it 
But the sea is very nicely combed out, like 
the mermaid's sea in the other book, and 
after looking at the picture nobody will need 
to be told the reason of the slang expression 
that dubs a bloater a u crocodile." 

A page or two farther in the book we find 
the * l Boat " riddle. Here we observe that 
the sea is coarser , and not nearly so well 
combed Perhaps that is why it is referred 
to in the verse as the u very element" If it 

had only been the 

"rather" element it 
might have been 

A. A Mart tied with ber tajlio thi Mangtr. 

more regular in its 

habits. For "scullers" 
in the second line of 
the answer, one 
should read "sculls"; 
though in the picture 
the weapon of pro- 
pulsion seems rather 
to be one of the 
flexible laths used by 
harlequins* But there 
is merit in the repre- 
sentation of the jolly 
young waterman, and 
nobody can fail to 
recognise the boat as 
what is technically 
known as a " trim- 
built wherry, n 

Later we arrive at 
the H Pillory * riddle. 

Q Promotion lately was bellow' d 
Uponi perfon mean and fmall \ 

Then many perfona to him flow'd, 
Yet he return^ no thanks at all ; 

But yet their hands wtne ready ftill. 

To hdp him with their kind good- will. 

A* It is aManpelteiwthePittery* 

position for the artist to draw the picture. 

The victim himself also composes his features, 

and looks as pleasant 
as possible while his 
portrait is being taken* 
A gentleman with no 
arms finds It difficult 
to fling anything on 
his osvn account, so 
leans against the side 
of the picture for 
safety (having only 
one leg). 

We have rather a 
famous puzzle in the 
next we reproduce* 
A well-known " sell u 
show at fairs, down to 
quite recent times, 
was the "wonderful^ 
horse, with his head 
where his tail ought 
to be." The innocent 
who parted with their 
pennies were pre- 
sented to a very 




Original from 




( « ) 

£, As 1 walked thro' the flrats* 
was near twelve o'clock rtnight < t 
Two all in black I chane'd to meet, 
T heir eyes like Aiming fire bright 
They paRed by t nothing faid t 
Thcfr fore I wa* not much afraid. 

ordinary' sort of quad- 
rupeds with its tail 
turned to a corn-bin. 
Being thus made wise, 
they said nothing to 
their friends outside, 
except to persuade 
thorn also to pay their 
pennies and be sold, 
which was very grate- 
ful of them, and good 
business for the show- 
man. The mare in 
the present example 
is with difficulty re- 
pressing a very ex- 
cusable smile. She 
stands nobly to atten- 
tion, and only lacks a 
pair of rockers to put 
her completely in 

And so we come to 
page 12, Here the 

poetry is a trifle ir- 

regular, and is apt to 

cause hiccoughs if one attempts to read it off 
trippingly. But once more the picture saves 
the situation. Observe the cheerful white- 
ness of the gloomy night, and the easy non- 

A, Taw fong Ugbtti Links carried deng tht 

Q Three mm near the flowiqg Thames 
Much pains and labour rhey did cake; 

They did barh fcratch and daw their wem* 
Until l heir very hearts did ache. 

U is ft! true as e!er was told, 
Therefore ihU Riddle now unfold. 

A* Three Fidlers in Thames-Street vub* 
thxytd up a bridegroom in the Morning % wb* 
gave them nstbin^ io drink. 

chalance wherewith 
the two linkmen 
brandish their flaming 
torches. Neither of 
them is swinging a leg 
of muttori round on 
a string, as incon- 
siderate persons have 
supposed ; nor are 
they about to batter 
each other with 
knobby clubs, as other 
superficial students 
are apt to imagine. 
They are simply light- 
ing up that black 
night with flaming 
links, and with so 
much success as to 
whiten the sky as 
though it had been 
lime- washed. 

The next riddle 
gives us a bright and 
airy view of Thames 
Street, on an early 
morning, when three misguided fiddlers 
spoiled their own rest and thai of a bride- 
groom by fiddling in a vague hope of 
eleemosynary drinks. Every right-minded 
person will be delighted to know that they 
did not get those drinks, though regretful 
to find no mention of a brick or a boot- 
jack ; either of which articles might with 
propriety have been contributed by the 

® Full forty years 1 once did live, 
And oftentimes I food did give; 

Yet dl that time I did not roam 
So much ns half a mile from hornc ; 

But 1 liv'd free from care and ilnte, 

•Till aiUftl toft *yl ifc * 

Exp ound thb Riddle out of hand, 
The owner hath no houfc nor land . 

A Tbefmfs of Crape hejlawed upon a deettftd 
Body > the Hwft is the Coffin the Land is the 
Crave andbefotmetbm thai bepojpffij either. 

by t_ 



Original from 



$, I faw five birds alt in 1 ctge f 
Eich bird hid but one Angle wing, 

They were an hundred years of *st: 
And JeC fly and fwettly fing, 
. The wonder did my mind poffife, 
Wheu 1 beheld her age and flrength : 

Bdide s, as near as I can guefs, 
Their tali were thirty feet, in length. 

neighbours. It will 
be observed that all 
three fiddlers are left- 
handed. This may 
account for a certain 
perversity of habit, 
and some unreason- 
ableness of expecta- 
tion ; but it does not 
excuse the supine en- 
durance of the bride- 
groom, nor the dis- 
gracefully moun- 
tainous state of the 
public street wherein 
the fiddlers stand 

The lugubrious 
merriment of this 
"Merry Book" (vide 
title-page) is carried 
on fittingly in the 
next riddle we print, 
cheerfully illustrated 
with a picture of a 
discontented -looking 
corpse in a coffin. 
One can sympathize 

even with a corpse unwillingly associated with 
such a dull and clumsy riddle, and truly, to 
be shoved into the middle of such a doleful 
performance on a page of public print might 
bring a discontented scowl to the brow of the 
most naturally genial 
corpse ; to say nothing 
of the unnecessarily 
aggravating flower-pot 
hat The first four 
lines of the verse 
seem to be an ex- 
tremely obscure, 
muddled, and mis- 
informed allusion to 
the si Ik worm- 
Perhaps the next 
riddle is the best of 
the lot in conception. 

A. A Peel of Belli in a Steeple* 

( >3 ) 

$, At once I am in France and Spain, 
AiKl likewife many nations more. 

While 1 am m my gloomy reJgn> 
I gne rhe world a mighty ftore* 

The five birds in a 
cage, each with one 
wing, each bird a hun- 
dred years old, and 
with a tail 30ft long, 
is no bad trope for a 
peal of bells in a 
steeple, and rather 
poetical in its way. 
The verse siaggers a 
bit, it is true, but that 
is an external detail. 
Pleasant reflections,, 
too, are to be got out 
of the picture. There 
are the bells, about 
to clang all at once, 
and standing upside 
down, meanwhile, like 
a row of penny ices 
on a boa rd. Certainly 
the tails do not seem 
to be altogether 30ft. 
long, but there are 
considerations of 
space, as the editor 
says. They seem a 
worthy, resectable row of men, these ringers, 
though not strikingly handsome, and one 
trusts that when the bells do swing right 
side up they will miss their heads by a little, 
hopeless as the chance seems. 

After the bells we 
have the sun t as it 
appears on the fire- 
office plates. It is a 
healthy-looking, well- 
fed sun, with a nose 
like the ace of clubs, 
adimpled chin, a pious 
smile, and a rebellious 
head of hair But the 
riddle is uncommonly 
poor and flat, even 
among the other poor 
and flat riddles. 

A. The SUN. 

by Google 

Original from 

ITf ^©MOU 

By Mrs, Newman, 
Author of " Too Late" M The Last of the Hoddens? etc** tta 

T seems the only 
me to do, unless- 

thing loft 
No, that 

would be a way of slipping 
out of it at her expense not 
open to my father's son, I 
might as well tell her at once 
that she has been loo ready to take my words 
seriously. There is but one course for me to 
take now — the only course any honourable 
man in such a position could take— and this 
must he sentj" Roland Grafton was telling 
himself. He put the letter, as to the sending 
of which he had been debating with himself, 
with two or three others he had written into 
envelopes, addressed there^ and left them on 
the table ready for the post-bag. 

He sat gazing straight before him in a 
grave, spiritless way, different enough from 
what might be looked for in a man who had 
just written a love-letter offering himself and 
all he possessed to a young and beautiful 
girl No mean possessions, and no mean 
personality. A young man of about eight- 
and -twenty, fine- looking, healthy in mind and 
body ; the only son of his house, . and 
endowed with an old family name and large 
property, w r hich had been carefully nursed 
for him during a long minority after his 
father's death. 

"Well, I'm not the first man who has 
drifted into matrimony in this easy, irrespon- 
sible fashion, I suppose. Sitting out in a 

by Google 

conservatory after supper, the perfume of 
flowers and the melody of one's favourite 
Strauss in the air ; real admiration for a 
beautiful face, a few soft nothings, and there 
you are ! Not precisely one's ideal to be 
making love to a pair of blue eyes, a well- 
shaped mouth, and the rest of it, instead of 
the woman ; but ideals are out of date, and 
how little I know of her, after all ! She may 
possess every virtue under the sun for aught 
I know. She is certainly beautiful, and I 
think — yes, amiable. Beautiful and amiable ! 
What on earth more would you have, Roland 
Grafton ? " a little uncomfortably conscious 
the while that there w T as, in fact, something 
else — an indefinable something that he had 
hoped for, or at any rate dreamed of, which 
seemed lacking. 

Pushing his chair back from the library 
table, he rose and w r ent towards the great 
oriel window having an outlook upon grass 
terraces, well kept gardens and park beyond, 
with old trees massed about it here and there, 
stretching in wide sweeps and undulations 
down to where a church spire indicated the 
position of a town in the distance* 

His hands thrust deep into his pockets, he 
stood gazing at the scene so familiar, yet 
ever varying with the season's changes, and 
always equally attractive in his eyes* It was 
steeped just now in July sunshine. 

" Will she come to feel as I do about all 

Original from 



this ; or will it have to be a house in town, , 
and the best part of the year spent away 
from here ? Will she allow the mother to go 
to the jointure house, or - ? " 

He turned, went quickly towards the 
table, caught up the letter, and was about to 
tear it across and consign it to the waste- 
paper basket, but once more hesitated, and 
after another moment threw it on to the table 

14 No ; it has gone too far ! At any rate> l 
she must have Thought it had when she used 
my Christian name and asked me to call her 
Margaret, whispering those parting words : 
"Von will write; I shall hear from you 
; -morrow ! T No girl .would speak in that 
way if she did not think matters had gone 
pretty far. There must have seemed more 
in my tone and manner than I thought there 
was. Yes ; she has a right to expect that 

The letter sent beyond recall, he strove to 
get used to the thought of what might be 
expected to follow. 

* f Shall I tell the mother? Not yet, I 
think — not until I get the reply, I have 
half a mind to go over to lunch with the 
Hargraves, and get through the time that 
way. She would hardly come before four 
o'clock," conscious that the restlessness he 
felt arose chiefly from the desire to have 
the matter settled one way or the other. His 
impatience was certainly not that of an ardent 

As he walked down the drive he came upon 
his mother, who had been some time an 
invalid, taking her morning airing in a pony- 

" I am going to walk over to the Hargraves, 
mother, and shall probably lunch there. 
Don't wait for me." 


letter, and it must go, come what may. PI I 
send it by a groom* He can easily go 
there and back in a couple of hours or so, 
and I shall know all the sooner whether it is 
to be 'Ye*' or 'No,'" 

He rang the beli, and bade the man who 
obeyed the summons "Tell James to saddle 
the mare, ride over to Wellends with this 
letter, and wait for an answer/' After a 
moment's thought he added, to avoid making 
the errand too much like a special one : 
"These two others can be left in the town 
as he goes through/* 

Voi. jdoL— to. 

by Google 

"Very well My kind regards, and say I 
am hoping to see some of them here soon/' 
With a smiling, half-questioning look up into 
his face she added, "Effie was to return 
yesterday, was she not ? tf 

He saw that the hint he had given his 
mother that morning at the breakfast-table 
had had its effect in the way of setting her 
mind at work as to who the fiancee was to be, 
and that his going over to the Hargraves just 
after the return of the daughter had seemed 
to point to the conclusion that she was the 
favoured one. 

Original from 



"Oh, to-day, was it? I had forgotten,' 5 
he replied in a tone that showed his mother 
he was heart-whole so far as Effie Hargraves 
was concerned. 

§i Be sure to ask Mrs. Hargraves to drive 
over soon, Roland-" 

M AU right, mother.' 1 

He walked on a few steps, then halted, 
and, after a few moments' hesitation, went 
back to where his mother sat watching him 
with tender pride. 

Quite aware that there would be no going 
on until the young master was out of sight 


the groom stood motionless by the pony's 

" Mother," began Roland, bending down 
and speaking only for her ears, " I think you 
will probably have some visitors this after- 
noon, and, if you are a little' surprised at 
what comes of it, you will not, I hope, dis- 
approve, since it is for my — happiness." 

Quick to note his momentary hesitation 
before the last word, she looked up with 
tender anxiety into his face as she replied t— 

"You may be sure I am more desirous of 
that than of anything in the world besides, 
Roland* But am I not to hear any more?" 

u I-ater on, mother. It would take too 
long to go into explanations now," He gave 
her a reassuring smile and went on again. 

"Well got over, so far," he was thinking, 
as he turned from the drive and struck across 
the park towards the east lodge, in the oppo- 
site direction to that leading to the town. 

by Google 

"The mother will be in some degree pre- 
pared now, and 1 shall not have to explain 
further until the matter is settled." 

About half a mile from the park-gate, in 
the high road near the entrance to the town, 
there was a row of small cottages. In the 
little parlour of one of these, to which not 
all the dainty care bestowed upon it could 
give the appearance of more than decent 
poverty, sat Miss Bourn e, a spinster of middle 
age, and her niece, a girl of about eighteen. 
The elder woman was engaged in darning a 
much worn tablecloth, sighing now and again 

over some newly dis- 
covered weak place, 
and the niece in copy- 
ing a piece of music. 

The sister and 
daughter of a solicitor 
who had lived in the 
town, and had been so 
long an invalid that 
all his little property 
had dwindled away, 
so that at his death his 
daughter found herself 
penniless. He had, 
however, contrived to 
give her a sound 
education, which was 
of good help to her 

Miss Bourne owned 
the small cottage, and 
with her income of 
forty pounds and her 
niece's earnings they 
had contrived to live 
so far. It was a colourless existence for a girl 
of eighteen, with refined, artistic tastes and 
keen, intellectual appreciation. She felt the 
dreary monotony of her life all the more 
from the fact that her aunt was no companion 
in the way of sharing her tastes. It told 
much in the young girl's favour that her aunt 
was quite unaware anything was lacking. 
Miss Bourne was under the impression that 
they were admirably suited to each other, 
her niece finding her as companionable as 
she believed herself to be. 

"We really must contrive to get a couple 
of new tablecloths soon, Margaret,' said her 
aunt, with a little sigh. 

"And I have set my heart on a frock for 
Molly. We can manage both out of the 
quarter's money due from the Watsons, 

" But I wanted you to have a new hat for 
the summer, Margaret, and it is July already. 

Original from 




It behoves us to make as good an appear- 
ance as we can. You must not forget your 
grandfather was a Mordaunt, you know." 

There was a half-smile upon the young 
girl's lips. She was in no danger of forget- 
ting what she was so frequently reminded of. 

At that moment the small servant, who 
came in to help clean at the cottage two or 
three times a week, entered the room, carry- 
ing a letter between a not very clean finger 
and thumb. 

" This is for you, miss. A groom brought 
it, and said it was from the Hall." 

"From the Hall?" said Miss Bourne, 
looking up from her work, almost as much 
surprised as Molly herself ; repeating, as the 
maid went out of the room, " A note from 
the Hall, Margaret ? " 

" Yes ; from Sir Roland, Aunt Mary. He 
promised to give one of the gardeners direc- 
tions to bring some palms and flowers for 
the platform of the schoolroom to-morrow 
night I told him they would help to 
brighten the room, and he has written about 
that, I suppose " ; the colour rushing to her 
cheeks, and her fingers closing tightly over 
the letter, as she rose and went towards the 

" Very kind of him, I am sure, dear," said 
Miss Bourne, bending over her work again. 
" Does he know you are going to sing ? " 

No reply. Margaret was gazing down at 
the address with guilty consciousness of the 
deep interest which any word from Roland 
Grafton had for her. As she stood with the 
morning light streaming in upon her, tall, 
slight with reflective grey eyes, and the hint 
of well-controlled ,power in her delicately- 
curved mouth and chin, she looked capable 
of arousing, as well as feeling, interest in 
She glanced round at her aunt and, a little 
relieved to see that her attention was fixed 
upon the darning again,, opened the envelope. 
It was courteous to write to her, but it would, 
of course, be only the few words which might 
be expected from one such as Sir Roland to 
tell her he had given the promised directions 
for the plants to be sent to the schoolroom. 

As she unfolded the letter she saw that it 
contained much more than the two or three 
lines she had expected to find — a letter 
carried on to the third page. 

At sight of the first words the colour died 
out of her cheeks, then flamed hotly into 
them a«'ain. There was an expression of 
bewildered surprise in her eyes, and her 
breath came in short, hurried gasps as she 
read : — 

by Google 

" Dear Margaret, — After our conversa- 
tion the other night you will be expecting 
this, and you will, I trust, pardon any short- 
comings in the manner of it when I tell you 
it is the first letter of the kind I have written. 
Will you be my wife, Margaret? I do not 
find it easy to write about myself, but this 
much I can say in all sincerity : if you will 
accept me, I will do my utmost to make your 
life a happy one. Myself, and all I possess, 
will be devoted to your service. If you can 
regard this favourably will you, remembering 
that my mother is an invalid, waive the 
conventionalities and come over to see her 
this afternoon — you and your shadow, as we 
call her ? My mother will be expecting you, 
and you will be welcomed as my future wife 
should be. — Yours, Roland Grafton." 

Margaret stood gazing down at the words 
in dumb amazement for a few moments, 
hardly able to realize this great happiness 
had come to her. She caught up the 
envelope that had fallen to her feet. Yes, it 
was addressed to her. It was evidently 
intended for her. 

" What does he say, Margaret ? Is he 
going to send the plants ?" asked Miss Bourne, 
beginning to wonder at her niece's continued 
silence. Then, looking towards her and 
noticing the change of expression in her face, 
she added : " Can he not send the flowers ? 
Those gardeners are so unwilling. Nothing 
unpleasant, I hope ? " rising as she spoke and 
going towards her niece. 

Unpleasant ! Margaret turned her eyes 
towards her aunt's anxious face and gave a 
little laugh, which ended in a sob. 

" I thought you said it was from Sir 
Roland," went on Miss Bourne, wondering 
what he could have written to affect her 
niece in that extraordinary way. Never 
before had she seen such an expression as 
that in the young girl's face. Tears, smiles, 
blushes— what did it mean ? 

" Yes, it is from him ; but, it is so different 
from anything I could have imagined it 
would be, Aunt Maxy." 

" Let me read it, Margaret ? " curiously. 

The young girl's hand tightened over the 
letter. Other eyes rest upon it, her first love- 
letter, and from Roland Grafton ! But she 
presently had herself under control and, 
remembering what was due to her aunt, 
quietly replied : " Sir Roland has asked me 
to be his wife, Aunt Mary." 

It was Miss Bourne's turn to be amazed. 
" His wife ! " she ejaculated. " Made you an 
offer, do you mean — are you sure ? Sir 
Roland Grafton ! " 

Original from 





" Yes," 

11 My dear Margaret, what wonderful good 
fortune ! You are, of course, worthy of the 
best and greatest in the land— but, really, 
you know 3 M 

** It does seem wonderful he should choose 
me," gently put in the young girl, 

"To think of your being in the best 
society in the county— mistress at the Hall — 
after the difficulty we have had to get on 
from day to day without being in debt," 

M To think of his choosing*!*, Aunt Mary," 
a little shrinking from the tone of her, aunt's 

"And, good gracious me, Margaret; you 
will be Lady Grafton," said the elder lady, 
far from seeing what was in the girl's mind. 

4i Don't, Aunt Mary." 

Miss Bourne looked a little puzzled- 
" Are you to write or is he coming here, my 

" He asks me to go with you to see his 
mother* She naturally wishes to see me ; 
but she is an invalid and never goes any- 
where, you know. Fortunately for me she is 
a good woman— everyone says she is ; and 
since her son has chosen me she may not be 
inclined to make objections on the score of 
my lack of fortune or position " ; adding with 

by Google 

a half- smile, as she 
saw the words forming 
upon her aunt's lips, 
"She may not even 
have heard of the 
great M or daunt, much 
less of our being de- 
scended from him," 

Miss Bourne looked 
a little grave. She 
had always felt that 
her niece was not suffi- 
ciently appreciative of 
her descent on her 
mother's side, and the 
tone of her allusion to 
her grandfather now 
was not in the best 
taste, to say the 
It was not, however, 
the time to point this 

" You will go, of 
course, Margaret ? " 

u I think— yes — if 
we were inclined to 
stand upon our dig- 
nity, we could not do 
so with an invalid — 
and under the circum- 
stances. It is better we should go, if you 
don't mind, Aunt Mary ? " 

41 Oh, not at all," replied Miss Bourne, 
striving to speak in a matter-of-course tone, as 
though a visit to the Hall were ah ordinary 
occurrence. *' Since Sir Roland wishes it, 
we certainly ought to go, but— if we had only 
a little more time to prepare ! We might do 
up your hat, Margaret"; hastily folding up 
her work, as she added: "That little white 

feather, and a velvet how, and " 

" No. No, thank yon, I would rather not. 
You see, it matters so little, nunty. Since he 
has chosen me, it must be for myself I 
suppose 1 '; turning aside to lift the letter to 
her lips. u His mother knows what my 
position is, and she will not expect to see me 
attired in the latest fashion." 

u He must have been a great deal im- 
pressed by what he saw of you, my dear. He 
has often seen you about the town, I daresay ; 
and he was talking to you for some time at 
the schools the other day, was he not?" 

14 Not for very long, He happened to 
come in while I was trying over the song I 
am to sing to-morrow, and we said a few 
words about the bareness of the room and 
the difficulty of being entertaining with such 
depressing surroundings. I told him he 

Original from 




might — I think I said he ought to — help us 
more than he has done. If he could get up 
a good hearty laugh for us he would be 
invaluable, or he might at least send us 
flowers- Talking of flowers led to quoting 
the old poets and challenging each other's 

memories about n There was a soft smile 

in her eyes as she dwelt for a few moments 
upon the remembrance ; then she presently 
went on : " It was only an exchange of ideas, 
but some people seem to have die power to 
bring out the best in one, do they not ? " 

" He must at any rate have thought a great 
deal of what you said," replied the elder 
woman, still more than a little surprised at 
the young girl's quiet reception of the 
wonderful good fortune that had come to 
her. But she was presently seized with a 
sudden fear lest her niece might have some 
foolish scruples about not caring for him 
sufficiently, or something of that kind, which 
might cause her to refuse him. Margaret had 
always been a little different from other girls 
in her way of looking at things. 

Rather anxiously she went on ; " Most 
girls would think themselves highly honoured 
by such an offer. Dear Margaret, do you 
think you can come to care for him ? " 

Come to care for him ! The young girl 
turned her eyes upon her aunt's kindly, 
anxious face, and once more broke into a 
little laugh. Come to care for him — Roland 
Grafton ! Was there another man in all the 
world to be compared with him ? Ah, well ; 
her aunt did not, of course, know how it was 
with her. She had kept her secret so far, and 
now perhaps the time was coming when 
there would be no necessity for further 

Roland Grafton had tried to persuade him- 
self that should Margaret Chetwynd accept 
him, their married life would be, if not the 
test that could be conceived of, at any rate 
of the average kind. No sooner had that 
letter been sent off than he began to have 
grave doubts as to whether marriage with her 
would be even of the average kind for him, 
attached as he was to the old home, and un- 
accustomed to find attractions elsewhere ; 
while she was constantly in society, and 
*ould perhaps take it as a matter of course 
that when they were not in town the house 
would be full of people with whom he would 
have little in common. 

He had made but a short stay at the Har- 
graves. Feeling, in his present state of mind, 
quite incapable of keeping up the ordinary 
topics of conversation, he had merely given 
his mother's message and left before luncheon. 

by Google 

Captain Hargrave, with whom he was on 
intimate terms, the two having been together 
at Eton and Oxford, walked with him as far 
as the park -gates. A few jesting words from 
him, which Grafton afterwards believed had 
been spoken with intention, not only con- 
firmed his fears that he had too hastily com- 
mitted himself, but had opened his eyes to 
something he had not before suspected. 

" They say you were sitting out in the 
conservatory with the all too charming Miss 
Chetwynd, at the Lawrences' ball the other 
night, old man. I know you can take care 
of yourself, but it seems to have got about 
that, failing the bigger title the old woman 
and she have been trying so hard to net, it is 
going to be you." 

" Who says it ? " curtly replied Grafton, 

" Oh, don't take it that way. Of course, I 
know you have your wits about you, and are 
not to be so easily caught. As to who set 
the ball rolling, I think it was the too lovely 
one herself. With the best intentions that 
way, she had not the old woman's skill in 
diplomacy, and told her dearest friend, who 
told our dearest friend, who naturally told us, 
all in the strictest confidence, that you stood 
next to Lord Saletoun on the list." 

Grafton had himself better in hand now, 
and made some indefinite reply, which the 
other took to be a parting jest, as the two 
shook hands at the gate. 

He turned into the wood at the lower end 
of the park and roamed restlessly about in 
troubled thought. Hargrave's words had 
struck home. " I must take the consequences 
of that half-hour's fooling, I suppose. There 
will be no escape for me now," he was 
moodily telling himself. 

Worse than all this, by one of those strange 
contrarieties of mind not to be easily ex- 
plained, he was beginning to see something 
else — something to which it would have been 
better for his peace to remain blind. The 
difference between Margaret Chetwynd and 
the girl who had the courage to remind him 
of his responsibilities and to take him to task 
for not having sufficiently considered them ! 
How vivid now was his remembrance of the 
expression of those grey eyes as they bravely 
met his when she told him that he ought not 
to need such a reminder. 

Yes ; he recognised too late that he loved 
another woman as he could never have loved 
the one to whom he was pledged, and for 
whom his present feeling was becoming little 
short of aversion. 

" But if it is too late, why should I torment 

Original from 




myself by bemoaning the inevitable?" he 
was presently lei ling himself, turning away 
from the haunting memory, "I have asked 
Margaret Chetwynd to be my wife ; and if 
she chooses to accept me I am in honour 
bound to act so that she misses nothing. 
Fortunately," he added, a little grimly, "she 
does not seem to be exacting in the matter 
of love-making— a very little of that goes a 
long way." 

He bared his head with a farewell bene- 
diction to the woman he had lost ; then, 
turning into the open, walked across the park 
towards the house with firm steps and set 
lips. If she were coming— and he dared not 
now hope that she was not — she would have 
arrived by this time. 

" Any visitors, Grant ? " he inquired, hoping 
for a negative reply, of a servant, as he 
opened the inner door and entered the hall 

"Two ladies, sir." 

Grafton drew a deep breath. "In the 
drawing-room ? " 

" In the morning-room, sir.*' 

Not to give himself another moment for 
hesitation, Grafton hurriedly crossed the hall 
and entered the morning -room. He had 
taken but two steps into the room when he 
suddenly stopped, his eyes dilating with 
astonishment. Was it a trick of the senses ? 

Njo, The face that had so persistently 
presented itself to his mental vision during 
the last two hours : the girl he loved — he 

sitting there with 

by Google 

knew now that it was love- 

his mother and her aunt ! The three turned 

smiling faces towards him as he entered. 

How had it happened — what had brought 
it about ? 

With a tremulous smile upon her lips 
Margaret Bourne half rose and extended her 
hand, then it fell to her side, and she sat 
down again, the soft colour that had suffused 
her cheeks fading out of them. Why was he 
looking at her in that way? she was asking 
herself. It seemed almost as though he had 
not expected to see her there ! What did it 
mean ? 

Still in a whirl of astonishment, he 
advanced and shook hands with the aunt 
and niece, contriving to say a few con- 
ventional words. 

"You told me I might expect visitors, 
Roland/* smilingly said his mother. "It 
was very kind of Miss Bourne to come to 
see an invalid ; and I have already discovered 
that Miss Margaret and I have some tastes 
in common," laying her hand gently upon 
that of the young girl seated by her side, 
and looking up meaningly into her son's face. 

Lady Grafton had at first been not a little 
surprised when the aunt and niece had been 
ushered into the room, but she had very 
quickly arrived at the conclusion that these 
were the visitors her son had told her to 
expect Why had he not been more explicit 
with her ? True, he had said she would be 

Original from 



surprised, and had appealed to her good 
feeling; but it would have made things so 
much easier for her, and indeed for them all, 
had she been better prepared. 

There was, however, but one course open 
to her, as a woman of gentle breeding and 
mistress of the house. The visitors were 
received with kindly courtesy, and, as they 
pleasantly exchanged the first few words, she 
was quick to recognise that if the aunt was 
somewhat nervous and ill at ease, the niece, 
who was in a much more trying position, 
bore herself with the quiet self-possession 
of a lady. And how earnest and true she 
seemed — how intelligent, and simple, and 
strong — in comparison with the assertive type 
of girl with no reverence for anything, or the 
foolish one with nothing but her pretty face 
to depend upon. 

Nor was Margaret Bourne entirely un- 
known to her so far as report went She 
had heard of the young girl's devotion to her 
father during his long illness, and of the 
brave, cheerful way in which she had set to 
work to earn her daily bread after his death. 
Suddenly she had thought she understood 
her son's motive in asking them to go there 
in that way. Ah, yes ; that of course was 
what Roland had meant. He had chosen 
this young girl for his wife, and had wished 
his mother to see her in order to come to 
an unprejudiced judgment about her. He 
had trusted that she would win her way to 
his mother's heart, and she already more 
than half satisfied Lady Grafton's somewhat 
exigeant taste. 

He might have done better, perhaps, 
judging from the conventional point of view, 
but that was not hers. She was no slave 
to mere conventionality. It would not be 
Helen Grafton who would put obstacles in 
the way. Rather was she conscious of a 
feeling of relief alter dreading a revelation 
so different What would it have been if 
Roland's choice had fallen upon Miss 
Chetwynd ? — who, she was obliged to acknow- 
ledge to herself, possessed almost everything 
that could be desired, with the exception of 
a heart. 

But how was it that Roland had not seen 
that her opinion was, as she meant him to 
do by the tone and manner with which she 
greeted him ? He was generally so quick to 
rtad her thoughts, but now he seemed 
confused and unlike himself. 

She turned to the visitors, talking pleasantly 
on with them, and presently gave her son 
another opportunity for joining in. 
'*Miss Bourne says she sketches some- 

by V_ 



times, Roland, and I have just been telling 
her she must take the view from the west 
terrace that people think so much of." 

" It makes a pretty picture." 

Pretty ! She looked at him in some 
surprise. It was unlike him to jerk out a 
sentence in that way, and have no more to 
say. There was, too, she noticed, a difference 
in Margaret Bourne since his entrance, 
"What does it mean?" she asked herself, 
beginning to feel that there was something in 
the situation which she did not quite com- 
prehend. To say something — the silence 
was becoming somewhat awkward and 
oppressive, each regarding the others with 
what seemed to be anxious expectation — she 

" I received a note from Miss Chetwynd 
just after luncheon, inclosing one for you, 
Roland. She says you must have put a 
note, which you sent her this morning, into 
the wrong envelope. It could not have 
been meant for her. Here it is," offering it 
to him. 

He hurriedly took it and crushed it up in 
his hand, reddening to the temples. No 
need to take it from the envelope which had 
been carefully closed. He saw at once what 
had happened. 

Another saw ! 

Margaret Bourne's eyes were downcast, 
and she sat white and still and crushed by 
the blow which had fallen upon her. She 
had received the offer intended for another, 
and had accepted it all too readily by going 
there ! However long she might live, no 
trouble could come to her bringing with it 
such humiliation as this. 

How to get away? How to say the few 
words that had to be said in the right way ? 
Not for a moment did it occur to her to 
attempt to shield herself by making things 
appear what they were not Rising to take 
leave, she said, in a voice that sounded 
strange to her own ears : — 

" Yes, there has been a mistake. I got 
the wrong letter and — I ought not to be 
here. Allow me to apologize, Lady Grafton, 
for the intrusion. I am more than sorry 
that " 

"You got the letter you ought to have," 
hurriedly put in Roland, "and you are in 
your right place here, if you will honour us." 

He meant that he would sacrifice himself 
for her. Allow him to do that ? Ah, no ! 
It was for her to act, and so to act that there 
could be no misunderstanding her. 

" You are generous, Sir Roland. But I 
cannot take advantage of such generosity — I 

Original from 




1 ViiS 1 Tf!>:KK HW &EEN A MISTAKE. 

will not ! I too have made a mistake, and I 
prefer to take the consequences." 

Her aunt had also risen, and was looking 
anxiously from one to the other. Although 
not so quick as her niece to recognise exactly 
what had occurred, she saw that it would 
involve a return to their old life of poverty 
and drudgery again. Her efforts to accept 
the situation with the dignity proper to a 
Mordaunt, notwithstanding, she had some 
difficulty in keeping back her tears. But in 
her loyalty to her niece she said : " Oh, yes ; 
we prefer to take the consequences/' 

" You must not go ! " ejaculated Roland. 
Turning anxiously towards his mother, he 
added : ft Say a word for me, mother ! You 
know me, and you will believe me when I 
say that my future happiness depends on my 
winning Miss Bourne for my wife." 

lady Grafton laid her hand upon the 
young girl's arm and was abbut to speak, 
when Margaret quietly repeated :— 

61 It cannot be. There must not be 
another mistake — in justice to Miss Chet- 
wynd, there must not. ?> 

Miss Chetwynd ! Lady Grafton under- 
stood it all now. She glanced again at the 
note that had been written to her and 

inclosed with that 
to her son, and 
her face bright- 
ened with a smile. 
Yes ; that young 
woman had her- 
self cut the knot 
for them, 

"Miss Chet- 
wynd gave me 
some good news, 
Roland. She 
says she has pro- 
mised to be the 
wife of Lord Sale- 

A wonderful 
change came into 
his face, and his 
bearing became 
that of one who 
had been sud- 
denly relieved of 
a great burden. 

"That is grand 
news, indeed, 
mother ! n Turn- 
ing towards Mar- 
garet, he went 
on with almost 
boyish eagerness, for the first time address- 
ing her by her Christian name : M You 
are not going, Margaret] do you think we 
will let you go— now? There is much to 
say— to be explained. And — yes, 1 want to 
show you the view and — the flowers. It is 
of the greatest importance that you should 
yourself choose the plants and flowers for the 
school concert to-morrow night, you know," 
endeavouring to look into her eyes, downcast 
but not in humiliation now. 

"Oh, yes, pray give us the pleasure," us 
earnestly put in Lady Grafton. "I, too, 
have something to say, Margaret. I must 
try to prove to you that my son's happiness 
will be mine," To the aunt she added, 
" Pray sit down, Miss Bourne ; they will be 
bringing in tea, and you really must stay," 

They could no longer demur ; and when, 
later on, Roland induced Margaret to accom- 
pany him to the conservatories to " look at 
the flowers," he made his confession. 

She could not be, and did not affect to be, 
blind to the fact that his offer to the other 
Margaret had been made solely because he 
felt in honour bound to make it For the 
rest, she was the happiest girl in the three 

by Google 

Original from 

The Flow of Rocks. 

By Frederick T, C Langdon, 

T is a well-known scientific 
theory, and one of great and 
far-reaching importance, that 
the solid rocks of which the 
earth consists become, under 
the enormous heat and pres- 
sure of the interior semi-liquid and mobile, 
so that they may be said to flow like treacle. 
This astounding fact, long suspected, but 
never before demonstrated, has been proved 
at last by Professor Frank Dawson Adams, 
M,Sc.Fh,D., F.G.S., Logan Professor in Geo- 
logy at McGill University, Montreal, With 
machinery especially con- 
structed for applying tre- 
mendous pressures, even 
up to ninety tons per 
square inch, during 
periods varying from 
fifteen minutes to 128 
days, Professor Adams 
has squeezed columns of 
marble until the mole- 
cules have slipped and 
twisted, separated and re- 
united, changing entirely 
the granular appearance 
of the structure, while 
weakening it but com- 
paratively little. 

These experiments have 
clearly shown why the 
rocky strata of the earth 
are so irregular, why they 
are rent asunder by earth- 
quakes, why mountains have taken shape, why 
some of the greatest of geographical changes 
have occurred. It is a far cry from the flow 
of liquids to the flow of rocks, but Professor 
Adams's experiments have demonstrated that 
the one resembles the other ; that rock- 
structure under extreme pressure seeks relief 
along the lines of least resistance and flows 
in those lines, just as it is known that liquids 

A drop of rain-water on a window-pane 
moves downward through a zig-zag course, 
the deviations being due to tiny causes in the 
shape of bits of dust, imperfections in the 
glass, etc. That drop of water follows the 
line of least resistance. A mass of rock deep 
in the world-crust, pressed down upon 
by countless tons of like material, seeks to 
get away from the overpowering force and 
moves — infinitely slow though the motion be 


From a Pholograiih. 

Vol jrait 

nfinitely slow though the motion be 

—along paths of the smallest opposition. 
The cases are parallel. Immense masses of 
rock strata are thus moved during incon- 
ceivable periods of time, being slowly forced 
along beneath the surface of the globe, or 
projected outside in the, form of mountains 
or hills. When the " overhang" weight of 
the hard-pressed strata becomes too great for 
the cohesive force of the molecular structure 
there is a toppling, a settling towards the 
centre of gravity, a rupture at the " fulcrum," 
and then an earthquake* 

Although these complicated bendings and 
twistings have long been 
recognised by geologists, 
there has been much dis- 
cussion as to the way in 
which this " flow " has 
taken place and a wide 
divergence of opinion. In 
some quarters the process 
has been considered as 
purely mechanical ; in 
others the possibilities of 
solution and redeposition 
of material were taken 
into the equation. With 
so much opportunity for 
doubt the problem was 
one which might be eluci- 
dated by experiments 
upon rock movements— 
if movements could be 
induced in rocks under 
known conditions, And 
if the results thus artificially obtained corre- 
sponded with the structures of deformed 
rocks found in Nature, a great deal might be 
learned not only about the character of the 
movements, but also about the conditions 
necessary to produce those movements, 

It is almost universally agreed among 
geologists that there are three principal 
factors needful to bring about those con- 
ditions to which, in the deep parts of the 
earth, rock structure is subjected, and that 
these conditions are : First, tremendous 
pressure; second, high temperature; third, 
percolating waters. 

As regards the question of pressure, let it 
be said that mere cubic compression does 
not result in a flowing motion, although it 
may effect a change in the molecular structure 
of the rock. That the mass may have move- 
ment, a differentia' pressure is necessary ■ and 




to obtain this differential pressure under the 
conch lions prescribed, inventive genius must 
needs get to work. In the evolution of a 
proper machine for his experiments Professor 
Adams was aided by Professor John T, 
Nicholson, D.Sc, M.Inst. C.E. The studies 
were conducted in the Mining Building 
at McGill University, 

That the interesting way in which the 

out the core. The consequent tube of Low 
Moor iron was one-fourth of an inch thick, 
with the fibres of the metal running around 
the tube instead of parallel to its long axis. 

Small columns of marble, varying in 
diameter from eight-hundredths of an inch to 
one inch, and about one and five-hundredths 
of an inch long, were accurately fashioned 
and polished on a lathe. Then the Low 


The machine on the extreme tefl of the photograph >* ready lo make a "cold dry crash'* ; the machine in ilic middle is 

ready m maVc n Ai hot dry tni^h " {ibe aslicstos packing which would he wrapped about it lo keep in the heal beinj; 

removed) L and the machine on the right is prepared for a 4i hot wet Crunlu" 

experiments were carried on may be clearly 
explained for readers of Tin-; Strand it will 
be advisable to begin with a description of 
the preparation of the blocks of pure Carrara 
marble used in the tests, and gradually to 
lead up to the machinery with which the 
squeezing is accomplished. To subject the 
marble to a differential pressure it was sought 
to inclose it in. some metal with a greater 
elasticity than the marble, but at the same 
time ductile to a considerable degree. Heavy 
tubes of wroufihnron were adopted. These 
were formed after the plan used in making 
big guns, by wrapping thin strips of Ixiw 
Moor iron about a soft iron bar, welding 
each strip in succession, and finally boring 

Digitized by G* 

Moor tube was fitted about the marble, both 
the column itself and the interior of the tube 
being tapered very slightly, and so contrived 
that the marble would pass only half-way 
into the tube when cooL The tube, being 
subjected to expansion through the agency 
of heat, increased in diameter enough to 
allow the marble to pass completely into it, 
leaving at either end about an inch and a 
quarter of the tube free. When the tube 
cooled a uniform contact between the metal 
and the rock was obtained. 

The subject was then in readiness for the 
next step. Into either end of the tube con- 
taining the marble column was inserted an 
accurately fitting plug or piston of steel, and 




Lower press plate 

Scale .— tj?m. • 7 ins . 



A. Tube including' i:<iLu inn of Carrara ma rh|<*. B. Ca*Mron jauket l*>red to 
receive mbe. C. P]nce for in sen ion of a CallcmUr's pLuihum re- Ui mice 
therroomeler, 1>, Channel fur circulation of hot gases. K. Air * t inlo 
which thermometer bulb project?!. F. Wall separating g^s space from ;iir 
space. G. Gas pip?- 

pressure was applied by means of these. 
This pressure — and a most extraordinary 
pressure, too — was brought about by a 
powerful double hydraulic u intensifier 77 press, 
by means of which {in earlier experiments 
when water from the city mains was used) 
forces as high as 13,000 atmospheres were 
exerted on the marble, which forces were 
easily regulated and maintained at a con 
slant value for months at a time, if needed. 

Having learned that columns of marble, 
1 in- in diameter and ij^in. high, were 
crushed at from 11,4301b. to 12,0261b. to the 
square inch, the column in its wrought-iron 
casing was placed in the squeezing machine 
and pressure applied gradually, the extreme 
diameter of the tul>e being accurately 
measured at frequent intervals. Until a 
pressure of f8,oooUx to the square inch was 
reached (varying slightly with the thickness 

Digitized by G< 

of the tube) no effect was not ice- 
able, but at that pressure the tube 
was found to bulge slowly and sym- 
metrically, the bulge being confined 
solely to that part of the jacket 
surrounding the marble plug, The 
distension was permitted to continue 
until the tube showed signs of rup- 
ture, when the pressure was removed. 
The marble was submitted to pres 
sure under the following four con- 
ditions: (it) At the ordinary tem- 
perature in the absence of moisture 
(cold dry crush), (b) At 30odeg. 
Centigrade in the absence of mois- 
ture {hot dry crush). {<:) At 4oodeg- 
Centigrade in the absence of mois- 
ture (hot dry crush), (d) At 30odeg. 
Centigrade in the presence of mois- 
ture (hot wet crush). 

On columns of marble at the 
ordinary temperature" eight experi- 
ments were ma tie in the absence of 
moisture, the rate at which pressure 
was applied varying in different 
cases, and the consequent malform- 
ation being in some cases extremely 
slow and in others more rapid, the 
extremes being ten minutes and 
sixty-four days in those particular 
cases. On the completion of the 
experiments a narrow cutter in a 
milling machine was ii-ed to >|ii tin 
tube longitudinally along two oppo- 
site lines. The marble was found 
to be still firm and compact, and 
so to cling to the two now distinct 
sides of the jacket that mechanical 
aid in the shape of wedges was 
necessary to tear them asunder, and even 
then the marble was split through the vertical 
axis, So firrnlv did the deformed half 


A 1 1 he left ii whamu the J^iw Moor iron tube inching a column 
of Carrara marble ready to be plnerd in lite nmdttne. On tin- 
ri^ht is the same iul« afier having been sluwly deformed 


8 4 


On the tight is ihe piece of deformed marble after removal from 
Hs jacket. On the tefl is a column of marble of the dimension* 
ils partner originally | 

columns then cling to the halves of the 
jacket thai a vice had to be used to set them 

While compact and firm, the squeezed 
marble differs from the original in possessing 
a dead white, chalky hue, the glistening 
cleavage surfaces of the calcite being no 
longer visible. This difference is extremely 
well shown in certain cases where some parts 
of the original marble remain unaltered by 
the pressure. 

That the strength of the rock might be 
tested, three of the half-columns obtained in 
different experiments after the manner de- 
scribed above were selected. The first of 
these, which had undergone a slow deforma- 
tion extending through a period of sixty-four 
days, gave way under a load of 5,3501b. per 
square inch ; the second, compressed for 
one and a half hours, broke down under a 
pressure of two tons per square inch ; and the 
third, which had been squeezed but fifteen 

Tube containing the deformed ma rule, milled open, atid the 
mar hie split in two as described, tn this particular case the 
marine column was reduced one half its original height in four 

minutes, crushed under 2,7761b, So that, in 
spite of allowances made for variance in shape 
of specimens tested, the marble after defor- 
mation is weaker than the original rock, for 
it has been previously mentioned that 
columns of marble such as were tested in the 
way described above exhibited originally a 

Digitized by L*OOQ lc 

crushing weight of between t 1,4301b. and 
12,0261b. to the square inch. Hence when 
deformation is conducted slowly the resultant 
rock is stronger than when deformation is 

As has been said, some portions of the 
tested marble columns were found unaltered. 


■'"' . 

The result of seventeen days' pressure ; deformation only 
slightly marked. 

It was, therefore, possible to get thin proxi- 
mal sections of changed and unchanged 
material and to examine them beneath the 
microscope^ w + hen the nature of the movement 
which had taken place was clearly discern- 
ible. The deformed part was distinguished 
by its turbid appearance, differing most 
markedly from the clear, transparent mosaic 
of the original This turbidity was of 
greatest strength along a series of reticulating 
lines running through the sections, which 
lines, when highly magnified, are seen to 
consist of bands of tiny calcite granules. 
The calcite individuals along these lines— 
the " lines of shearing "—have broken down, 
moved past one another, and come to be 
compactly massed after the movement ceased. 
The resultant structure is identical with that 
seen in the felspar of many gneisses. 



At inn.- left is a column of marble whose deformation 0UUIpM*1 
[?4 days, dminE which a temperature of 3w.*deg, Centigrade 
w&s maintained. The column at the right represents lhi= 




Professor Adams next ex- 
perimented with the effects of 
heat, and after putting the 
marble into the machine (sup- 
plied with suitable apparatus 
for the generation of heat) he 
learned that the crushing load 
of the column deformed under 
i hose conditions was equal to 
10,6521b. per square inch. So 
that, while marble deformed 
under the influence of great 
heat is not quite as strong as 
the original rock, it is, to say 
the least, very strong- 

The third factor which it 
was believed might have an 
influence on rock formation 
— moisture— was next considered, and yet 
another modification of the machine was 
needful For sixty -four days water was 
forced through the marble column at a 
pressure of 460IU to the square inch. The 
column was heated to joodeg. Centigrade, 
Under these conditions the marble yielded 
by molecular slipping, but the deformed 
column was found actually to be slightly 
stronger than an unchanged bit of the original 
rock. The structure was identical with that 
developed at 3oodeg. Centigrade without the 
presence of moisture. Water therefore did 

In thia tasc the pressure on the marble 
was continued *<> tari^ and the defor- 
mation carried so far that tht moving 
marble within rem asunder the metal 
jacket inclosing it. 

Micropho(<!i£rapl] uf 1 he Currara marble u^rct in (he experi- 
ments. The nick as found in Nature. Tlie individual grains 
have very nearly the sarnt diameter in every direction, although 
differing -inewhai in «ie among themselves. 

nut affect the character of the deformation. 
The remarkable strength of the modified rock 
may have been due, however, to an infini- 
tesimal deposition of calcium carbonate along 
very minute cracks or fissures* 

All of which leads up to a most interest- 
ing and, at the same time, a most astonishing 

fact ; namely, that an examina- 
tion of marble deformed at a 
temperature of joodeg. Centi- 
grade, or better at 46odeg. t 
indicated an internal mole- 
cular motion precisely identical 
with that observed in metals 
changed by Impact or com- 
pression. The agreement be- 
tween the two is so close that 
the term M flow w is as correctly 
applied to the movements of 
marble under the conditions 
of pressure, previously de- 
scribed, as it is to the move- 
ment which takes place in a 
button of gold, for example, 
when squeezed in a vice, or in 
a rod of iron when jammed between rollers. 

That it might be known definitely whether 
the structures shown by artificially malformed 
marbles were to be found in Nature's con- 
torted crust, a series of forty-two specimens of 
marbles and limestones from various portions 
of the globe were chosen and examined with 
the minutest care. Of these, sixteen showed 
structures like those in the artificially de- 
formed rock, and the movements of the 
granules had been absolutely identical with 
those superinduced in the Carrara marble. 
In six other cases there was a greater or less 

MicmphotoKraph of the Carrara marble after having been 

sluwly deformed during 174 day*, a I a tempera ture of joodrjj,, 

Centigrade. The individual grains can be i^ren to be flLxciepc-d 

ir. a horizontal direction, 

resemblance, and in the remaining twenty 
specimens the structure was different 

It is believed from the results of other 
experiments now bein^ carried out r but not 
yet completed, that simitar movements can 
be induced in granite and other harder 
crystalline iQckjinal from 




do be quiet ! " 
said Mrs, Digh- 
ton, with a 
feeble effort at 
protest, as two small figures 
scrambled on the window- 
sill, framing their fair heads in a bower of 

Roses encircled every window in Hume 
Cottage— roses strong healthy^ sweet as the 
pink-cheeked twins, Jack and Millicent 

Jack looked round with beaming blue 
eyes, while anxious maternal fingers clutched 
his linen coat and Millicent's white frock* 

" We can't very well be quiet to-day, you 
see," he said, half penitently, yet with no 
intention of reforming, " because Aunt 
Lett ice is coming to stay." 

A visit from Aunt Lett ice proved always 
an event in the lives of the twins. Lettice, 
Mrs, Dighton's youngest and only unmarried 
sister, was well known in Ixmdon society as 
11 the pretty Miss Leith." Many were the 
offers of marriage this fastidious young 
person declined, enjoying her freedom to the 
full With the children she was an immense 
favourite, owing to an indomitable spirit of 
fun which ruled her happy young life. 

" I see the carriage coming," cried Milli- 
cent, tossing herself forward. M Look, it's 
turned the corner, and Aunt Lettice is 
driving the ponies," 

The twins sprang down from their perilous 
perch, racing each other to the flower-laden 
entrance, in which warm greetings became 
the order of the day, much kissing and hug- 

uch kissing and hui 

ging, to the disadvantage of Lattice's 

white muslin gown and delicate lace 


"How well you look ! J ' gasped Mrs. 

Dighton, with a sudden thrill of ad- 
miration. She had always considered her 
sister pretty, but somehow Lettice seemed 
changed. The former prettiness had deve- 
loped into beauty ; her eyes possessed a new 
sparkle, her face an enchanting blush ; her 
whole manner spoke mysteriously of inward 
happiness and contentment. On the other 
hand, Mrs. Dighton bore signs of worry and 
depression. Directly they were alone Lettice 
asked if anything were the matter. 

" We had such a shock about this house," 
said Mrs. Dighton. " You know how dearly 
I love the little place ; the children were born 
here, and it is associated with the happiest 
years of my married life. Well, we grew to 
look upon it as our own, never dreaming that 
the lease would not be renewed, But, alas ! 
we built our hopes on sand ! The landlord, 
Sir Charles Carrick, has suddenly taken it 
into his head to make a private steeplechase 
course on this very ground* The fields ^all 
round us are admirably adapted for his 
purpose, So poor little Hume Cottage, with 
its lovely flower garden and exquisite views, 
is to be laid low — destroyed —for a whim. 
Sir Charles cares nothing about this neigh* 
bourbood. Colbrand Castle lies empty from 
year to year ; if he spares a week of his 
valuable time to the old place he consider 
his duties fully completed. The steeple- 








chase course will be of little use to him. 
Hume Cottage means a great deal to us," 

" What sort of a man is Sir Charles ? " 
asked Lettice. 

1( My dear, I have never met him, but I 
think he must be a horrible creature. It is 
a standing disgrace the way he neglects his 
property. His tenants are in the direst 
poverty; it would be far better if he let 
Colbrand Castle than allowed the estate to 
run to rack and ruin*" 

* Perhaps he is thoughtless ; perhaps it has 
never struck him that his duty lies here/ 1 
said Lett ice, " After all, you know, it would 
be lonely for an unmarried man to live by 
himself in that gloomy old giant's house." 

Lettice glanced towards the grey castle — 
just visible through the trees* In olden 
times a most powerful race of giants were 
supposed to have inhabited the great Col- 
brand mansion. The doors were built 
tremendously high for the convenience of 
the gigantic owners, while horrible tales 
of cannibalism and crime still clung 
to the place. Children's bones had been 
found beneath the cellars, and fierce spikes 
remained on the walls as evidences of 
past torture. It seemed fitting that the pre- 
sent owner should , be a 
phenomenally tall man. 
The children crept up and 
caught Lettice's words. 



"She is talking about the giant," whis- 
pered Jack, putting his finger to his lip to 
silence Millicent, 

11 1 can find no excuse for Sir Charles's 
neglect," declared Mrs. Dighton, emphati- 
cally. "If only his younger brother were in 
his shoes things would be very different. 
The brother is a steady married man, most 
charitable, and ambitious for the country's 
good. I can only hope rumour may prove 
right, and that he will soon take the place of 
Sir Charles, who, I hear, is drinking himself 
to death as fast as he can. All the poor 
people would welcome the change," 

Lettice had grown suddenly pale; her calm 
eyes flashed and darkened, like a black, 
squall passing over the blue of the summer 

11 How unfair to say such things without 
knowing ! " she exclaimed, hotly. u Rumour 
always jumps at unkind conclusions, and is 
generally wrong, I am sure Sir Charles 
cannot be a drunkard. I— I have met 
friends of his. As to his never coming down 
here, he is expected at the castle this very 
day. Your coachman told me on my way 
from the station." 

"Probably he is coming for on^ night just 
to look at a horse, His visit worvi do anybody 
any good, except, perhaps, the man from 
whom he buys the horse/' 

Mrs, Dighton barely remarked the resent- 
ful glitter in her sisters eyes, She was think- 
ing of her owri grievance, of Hume Cottage 
lying in ruins, with all its sweet associations 

for ever dead. 
She mournfully 
the destruction 
of the honey- 
suckle porch, 
the wooden 
steps with their 
banisters of 
clematis, the 
roof tiled with 
Virginia creeper 
and purple wis 
taria, round 
which the bees 
loved to gather. 
All the sweet- 
ness laid low, 
converted into a 
burial - ground 
of bricks and 
mortar, crush- 
ing the stately 
Madonna lilies, 





the hold hollyhocks, and beaming sunflowers. 
To Mrs- Dighton the mere idea of such a 
massacre seemed little less than a crime. 

The children, overhearing the conversation, 
wandered away dolefully hand in hand, even 
their light young hearts saddened at the 
thought of losing their summer home. 

" You heard what mother said ? " whispered 
Millicent, resting her chin 
against the surface of a 
venerable sundial, 

"Yes; if the giant died 
what a good thing it 
would be ! But I don't 
believe giants ever die ; 
they have to be killed." 

"I wonder what he is 
like ! n sighed Millicent, 
kicking the moss off the 
base of the sundial with her 
small, square-toed shoes, 

"Oh ! I know all about him, 11 
replied Jack, with pride. " He 
grows nine inches every month, 
and is stronger than forty men 
all put together. He has only 
one eye, right in the middle of 
his forehead. He has set that 
eye upon our house, Millicent, 
and some day soon he is 
coming to tear it all down. 
Mother is very unhappy; I wish 
I could make it all right for 
her. I asked father to go and 
kill the giant, but he only 
laughed. I think it was just a 
little unkind of him to laugh, 
when mother minded so 

Millicent shook her yellow 
curls in nodding approval 

u Your name is Jack," she 
murmured, enigmatically. 

H Well, I know that ! " replied the boy. 

** Jack dug a deep pit, and put grass and 
gravel over it— the giant fell into the pit! 
That was Jack the Giant-Killer." Her voice 
sank. She fancied the giant poppies were 
listening, and that they might be mysteriously 
in communication with the wicked owner of 
Col brand Castle, 

A strange light came over the boy's face, yet 
the sun had hidden itself behind a tall copper 
beech. lit 1 took his little sister by the hand 
and made her sit down amongst the daisies. 

Side by side under the sundial the two 
small figures remained in long and earnest 
conversation ; Millicent with her bare legs 
crossed, her socks sunk to her ank 

The boy's cheeks were red as the crimson 
ramblers which showered their brilliance 
over a dead tree-stump. Every now and 
again the children would pause, a reign of 
short, breathless silence taking up the thread 
of eager t anxious talk. 

As the sun sank they rose, looking 
towards the red sky. 

" I think we 
might go now," 
said Jack. 


placed her tiny 

rs on his 


We shaVt 

seen in the 

ght," she 



whispered, confidently^ as they crept under 
the shadow of the box-hedge to the little 
garden-gate leading to the fields. 

The twins spoke little as they marched 
steadily in the direction of Col brand CasLle ; 
they felt it was not an occasion for speech. 

Jack's face wore a very determined 
expression, and he, hustled Millicent along 
ruthlessly whenever her short strides showed 
signs of lagging. 

As they neared the giant's domain their 
hearts beat fiercely ; the picturesque sur- 
roundings became part of a weird dream, a 
fairy land invented by imaginative minds, 
wherein lurked spirits and hideous monsters. 

A gasp cf long-drawn tension escaped 





them as, turning into the castle grounds, the 
handsome stone mansion broke upon their 
view, silhouetted against the sky-line in a 
summer sunset. 

A noble castle this, built of cut stone, with 
colonnaded wings on either side, the parapets 
formed of open stonework, and the colon- 
nades furnished with rustic seats. The wide 
doorway stood open, looking to the children 
like the entrance to a tomb— a cave of dead 
men's bones and terrors innumerable. 

Millicent shivered slightly. She clutched 
Jack's arm. 

" You are not frightened ! " he said. It 
was more an assurance than a question. 

11 Oh, no ; not at all, thank you," replied 
Millicent, with chattering teeth. 

" I hope you understand," continued Jack, 
"that I am only doing this for mother's sake, 
and all the poor people who are oppressed 
by the giant. I don't want to kill him at all 
myself ; in fact, it is rather unpleasant. You 
won't forget that, Millicent ? " 

" No," she whispered, " I won't forget. It 
has got to be done." 

" I think we had better walk straight into 
the castle ; it would be no good trying to 
storm it from outside— we haven't enough 

Millicent agreed as she looked down at her 
minute fingers, very grubby from their 
wanderings through the moss of the sundial. 
Side by side the juvenile warriors passed 
between two cannons, relics of the Crimea, 
through the great doorway to a lofty square 

How dead and desolate the place looked 
with the evening shadows creeping through a 
stained-glass window, making patterns on the 
walls covered with a bewildering collection of 
weapons, from a blunderbuss to an assegai. 
Above the high door in big bold letters an 
inscription was carved : — 

" There were giants on the earth in those 

Jack read the intelligence, but made no 
allusion to it ; he fancied Millicent seemed 
somewhat nervous. 

" I don't think the giant will b? very big," 
he told her, cheerfully, glancing up at the 
ceiling, which looked a long way off to 

4i Why not ? " she asked. 
" Oh ! because he could not live in this 
house if he were like the giant who put his 
feet on two mountains and then stooped to 
drink from a stream in the valley between." 

" No," said Millicent, and the thought 
brought comfort to her soul. 

Vol xxil— 12. 

" Come along, we had better look for him ; 
it's no good wasting our time," declared 

Now that they were actually within the 
walls of this " Castle Perilous " the would-be 
giant-killer recollected he was not very clear 
about his plans. 

It had sounded easy enough as they wove 
wild schemes of conquest under the sundial 
in the peaceful garden. A thousand splendid 
ideas and brilliant suggestions made this 
pilgrimage to the giant's domain a delight- 
fully thrilling and noble undertaking. The 
elements of romance, founded upon childish 
folk-lore and nursery tales, inflamed their 
hearts, set pulses beating, quickened zeal. 
Now the cold mists of reality crept over 
Jack's ambitious dream and made Millicent 
remember she had foregone her tea. 

Slowly the little besieging party advanced, 
walking with noiseless tread across the thick 
carpet, Jack leading the way to another high 
door on the opposite side of the inner hall. 
The door stood ajar — very softly Jack pushed 
it open, and two pairs of curious blue eyes 
peered cautiously into the room. A long, low 
apartment, lighted by three windows with a 
western aspect, through which could be seen 
the crimson sky, radiant with the glories of 
an exquisite sunset, a sea of flaming carmine, 
streaked by lines of darkest velvet, piercing 
grey, plume-like masses of cloud. 

In the big bow window, lying back between 
the arms of a great chair, with eyes closed 
and feet propped up on a handsome buhl 
table, lay the giant himself! At his side a 
pile of newspapers indicated that he had been 
reading. A silver cigar-box stood open ; 
evidently the giant was not above a human 
weakness for the Goddess Nicotina. 

Jack grasped Millicent's shoulder con- 
vulsively ; his heart beat like a steam-engine, 
but his courage ran high. "See," he 
whispered, "the giant is asleep; what luck! 
That's always the time to kill a giant, you 

Millicent steadied herself against an old 
Musherbyah screen which once ornamented 
a Cairo harem, her bare knees shaking and 
her anxious gaze cast in the direction of the 
sleeping monster. 

She had expected a hideous apparition, and 
lo ! the creature's hair was curly — auburn ; 
his profile showed classically chiselled features. 
Millicent saw something attractive in his 
very pose — the abandonment of a tall, loose- 
limbed figure under the refining influence of 

As she looked the woman's heart in that 




baby frame softened and quailed. She forgot 
the ennobling instincts which had driven 
Jack to the castle on his murderous errand ; 
forgot that Hume Cottage, her mother's 
happiness, and the well being of the poor 
hung in the balance. The giant must be 
saved from destruction the giant with the 
fair moustache and curly head. 

" I know what we will do," said JacL 
w Give me your 

do you do ? " he said, simply, 
out a big hand to these strange 
*' What on earth are you playing 

and I'll 

up and tie 



it round his neck. 

Then we will each 

take one end, and 

pull just as hard 

as ever we can 

till his head falls 


The mere idea 
filled Millicent 
with unspeakable 
horror, Pushing 
Jack aside, she 
rushed frantically 
across the room, 
flnging herself 
with a cry of 
warning upon the 
man's powerful 

" Wake 

wake up ! 


up ! !J she cried 
three times in 
her shrill, small 
voice, shaking 
the lapel of his 
coat vigorously. 
Sir Charles Car- 
rick started so 
violently that he 
sent her tumbling 
on the floor ; then 
he rubbed his 
eyes, uncertain if 
he were still 
dreaming, and 
stared round. 

What he saw certainly perplexed him. 

A tiny white figure with a frightened face, 
in a crumpled heap on the rug \ a crestfallen 
boy T helping the thing in socks to rise, and 
muttering reproachfully :— 

"Oh! Millicent, you have spoilt every- 
thing ! " 

At last, fully convinced he was awake, the 
Lord of the Manor stopped blinking his 
eyes and addressed the intruders. 

" How 

His calm tone reassured Millicent, who 
had been dangerously near tears. She 
advanced timidly, offering her chubby fingers 
in return for ihe giant's proffered palm. By 
way of introduction she whispered in a grave 
undertone, nodding towards her brother : — 
" That's Jack the Giant-Killer ! " 
Sir Charles controlled a smile. 
11 Oh ! I see ; you've come to explore 
the giant's house ? " 

"No," she explained, "we didn't care 
one bit about the house, but we thought 

you were much, 
much bigger, and 
only wore one eye 
in the middle of 
your forehead, so 
jack decided to 
kill you," 

"Really! Now, 
that's very inter- 
esting^ 55 replied 
the giant, good- 
humouredly, as 
he lifted Millicent 
on his knee ; 
" very interesting 
indeed ! But 
why a poor beg- 
gar should be 
killed because he 
has only one eye, 
I can't imagine. 
Of course, I know 
I am very igno- 
rant, and I should 
be much obliged 
if you would tell 
me— — 

Jack came for- 
ward with words 
of wisdom to save 
the situation* 

w Millicent has 
muddled it all 
up, IT he said. " The eye did not matter, but 
if I had killed the giant everybody would 
have been so pleased, especially mother." 

"Mother must be a charming person!" 
said Sir Charles, 

11 Yes, she's just a dear 1 " murmured Jack, 

enthusiastically, " Millicent and I would do 

anything for her — wouldn't we, Millicent? ir 

Millicent signified approval by emphatically 

nodding.Origmal from 





"But why should your mother desire my 
destruction ? " 

The giant put the question kindly, a 
puzzled expression on his brow. 

With the sincerity of childhood, Jack 
hastened to explain, 

"You see, it was this way/' he said, 
41 Mother was telling my aunt that if you 
died your brother would come to the castle, 
which would be so much better for every- 
body, because he's good and thinks about 
the poor |>eople. Your tenants are not a bit 
happy: their houses are tumbling down, i pig- 
sties * father calls them — the houses, I mean. 
Of course a giant can't understand what it's 
like to live in a pig-sty." 

Jack spoke innocently, his searching gaze 
riveted upon Sir Charles, his little hands 
thrust in the pockets of his 
linen coat. 

The giant fidgeted un- 
easily and pulled at his big 
n^uatache, then he turned 
his «yes away, 
staring through 
the open win- 

The wonders 
of an after glow 
painted the 
sky innumer- 
able colours. 
Sheaths of rays 
shot up from 
the vanished 
sun ? but Sir 
Charles was 
not looking at 
the glory. 

For the mo- 
ment his mind 
travelled bark 
lo the old 
school - days, 
when he was 
always in dis- 
grace while his 
brother Mau- 
rice carried off 
the good - con- 
duct prizes, 
Maurice, the 

poseur, the would-be saint, had made for 
himself the motto : " Thou shalt not be 
found out/ 1 and kept to it with the utmost 

Millicent, adopting the enemy's knee for 
an arm-chair, leant comfortably against Sir 
Charles's broad chest 

"It is a pity you are going to take 
our house away," she said. " You don't 
know what lovely mud-puddings we make 
where the tadpoles live ! It is right 
at the end of the garden ; the rushes 
grow all round the pond. We found 
Moses there. Somebody had thrown him in 
the water, and he mewed dreadfully. We 
named him L Moses ' because of the rushes, 
and it was Sunday, too, Are you friendly 
with cats? We love them very much. I 
can't think what Moses will do, because he 
is very fond of the house, and cats simply 
can't bear new places. I was wondering if 
you could leave just a little bit of the yard, 
enough for a few kittens to live in. Oh, and 
I do hope you won't come before my birth- 
day ; you see, we couldn't have a party if we 

were moving- could 
we, Jack ? " 

"No," replied the 

is a pitjy' 

continued Mil- 
licent, dangling 
her sunburnt 
legs and heat- 
ing a deep sigh, 
"jack and I 
won't ever love 
another garden 
(|iiite so much. 
We heard you 
had decided 
to tear every- 
thing down, 
and that is why 
we expected 
you to be 
bigger. You'll 
have to get 
some other 
giants to help 
you — the trees, 
are very talL" 
"Why do you think T want to tear down 

your home ? 1J he asked, gently, 

" Oh ! because you are going to ride 

races/' put in Jack. "Mother called it *a 

whim/ but father said it was a steeplechase 

course, and I am sure, he knew." 

Light broke oier the giant's groping senses, 






"I see, I see; you live at Hume Cottage, 
and they have a pretty bad opinion of me 
there, eh ? But it was really rather cruel of 
you to want to kill me ! " 

" I did not want to, really, a bit," Jack 
confessed, half-ashamed of the admission. 
" I told Millicent I was only doing it for 
mother's sake ; you see, mother cried when 
she heard you were going to destroy our 
house. She thinks you will die, because you 
drink such a lot ; she doesn't understand 
that giants can drink whole rivers ! " 

Sir Charles for the first time broke into a 
hearty peal of laughter. The disastrous 
revelation as to his moral character flowing 
thus glibly from the tongue of a child 
amused him by its very falsity. 

" It is funny, isn't it ? " said Jack, joining 
in the laugh, and mistaking its real signifi- 

" Aunt Lettice said people were very 

unkind to jump at — at what did she call 

it, Jack ? " asked Millicent. 


"Yes, conclusions," echoed the small 
voice, and looks of pride were exchanged at 
mastering the long word. 

" Aunt Lettice^ did you say ? " The giant 
spoke excitedly, sitting bolt upright in his 
chair, a strange expression lighting his eyes. 
A moment ago he had been lazily enjoying 
the slaughter of his own reputation ; now he 
looked both eager and anxious. The children 
were not slow to notice the change. 

" Yes, dear Aunt Lettice, she's so beautiful ! 
We like her best when her hair hangs down 
at night, then we call her 'Golden Hair,' 
and Millicent thinks the plaits are fairy 
ladders. Aunt Lettice came to-day ; we were 
awfully glad ! " 

44 Is her name Lettice Leith?" asked Sir 
Charles, and his voice trembled. Jack 

There was a pause. The twins stared at 
him curiously. For the moment he seemed 
to have forgotten their presence, as he drew 
a letter from his pocket and re-read its 

" I am so sorry at your having to go into 
the country on business," the letter ran. 
" It will indeed be dull and boring all alone 
in that great castle ; no wonder the place 
depresses you. As you have to be away for 
two or three days I think it would be better 
to carefully guard our secret till your return. 
Then you must come to dinner, and have a 
long talk with my 'stern parent ' — I am sure 
you will like him, and I have not the faintest 
doubt that hewill like you ! Your wail at being 

called to Warwickshire would have made me 
quite sad, but I've thought of a surprise for 
you (rather a nice surprise, I am conceited 
enough to tell myself). Prepare for the un- 
expected, but don't expect too much ! " 

So Lettice's presence at Hume Cottage 
must be the surprise ! He, then, was her 
sister's landlord, about to lay low her sister's 
home, while evil rumour sported with his 

Sir Charles looked down at his future 
nephew and niece with a new interest, in- 
voluntarily bending to kiss Millicent's hair. 
In colour and texture it was like Lettice's. 

" Come," he said, " I will take you home. 
Let us go to Aunt Lettice." 

" Do you know her ? " asked Jack. 

The giant smiled. He gave each of the 
children a hand, and, trotting beside him, 
they passed out to the dusky garden. The 
faint rays of glory above were just fading in 
mist, while the thinnest crescent moon floated 
between two crimson clouds, like a dis- 
embodied spirit. 

As they walked towards Hume Cottage 
he drew them on to talk of Lettice. 

"She spoke up for you," said the boy. 
" I heard her, but I don't think she told 
mother you were her friend. Of course a 
person would have to be nice about a friend, 
whatever he did, even if he destroyed ever 
so many houses." 

" What did Aunt Lettice say ? " asked Sir 
Charles. Jack thought a moment. 

" She called it ' unfair ' ; she supposed 
people talked without knowing, and that 
perhaps you were only thoughtless. Mother 
mentioned the word * duty ' more than once, 
but I can't remember all ; you see, I was 
planning to go to the castle myself." 

" Yet, after you had found the giant, you 
let him live ! But never mind, old boy, 
I won't lay a finger on Hume Cottage, in 
gratitude to you for sparing my life." 

" Oh ! that is good news ! " said his young 
assassin; "only it was really Millicent's doing, 
because she woke you up." 

"Then how am I to repay Millicent?" 

The little girl looked up at him with wide, 
trustful eyes. 

" Make the pigsties a little less piggy," 
she said. 

The unselfish request touched him. He 
patted her on the head. 

41 All right," he murmured, gazing fondly 
at the tiny philanthropist ; " I daresay Aunt 
Lettice will help me. I am going to ask her 
to stay at the Castle. Perhaps she may like it 
so much sh <e wiU ^aiu to live there altogether." 




This seemed a very strange remark, but 
the children did not like to disbelieve, for 
the giant had won their respect ; they were 
even getting a little fond of him. 

As they neared Hume Cottage, with its 
rosebuds closing for the 
night and languid evening 
primroses expanding be- 
neath the moon, their com- 
panion became strangely 
silent, hastening his steps 
till the twins found them 
selves running to keep 
pace with him. 


Somebody opened the garden-gate and 
came towards them with a bright smile — a 
girlish figure clad in white. 

The children's hands were suddenly re- 
leased, and the giant bade them run indoors 
in a voice they dared not disregard 

With swift steps they bounded up the 
clematis staircase, seeking their mother 

** We're been to the castle/ 7 they cried, 
11 but we didn't kill the giant, and he's going 
to lei us stay here, and Aunt Lettice is to 
see to the poor people's pigsties. Won't 
lhat be lovely ? And— and— he is outside 
in the garden with her, because they are 

great friends. If she likes the castle she is 
to live in it always." 

The twins spoke rapidly — both together, 

till the stream of words became incoherent, 

and were only stayed by the welcome sight 

of nursery tea awaiting 

the truants' return. 

Meanwhile the giant 
laughed to think he ever 
railed the cminuy lb de- 
pressing n — as he and 
Lettice discussed their 
future in the sweetly- 
scented garden, 

11 You told me not to 
expect too muck I 
could hardly have 
expected this," he 
whispered, d r a vv l n g 
her to his arms. 
** Those children 
hurst upon me in a 
fairy-tale spirit, and I 
can still fancy myself 
treading enchanted 
ground ! Perhaps 
they were purposely 
sent to teach me my 
duty i they certainly 
fulfilled their mis- 
sion. We will build 
up the old place to- 
gether, darling. If I 
had known you 
sooner I should 
have been a better 

But Lettice did not 
believe this. In the 
eyes of love there can exist no w better " for 
the ideal already enthroned upon a pinnacle 
of perfection. So the idle moments drifted 
and became precious. 

Jack, peeping out at the starlit garden, 
whispered as he caught the glimmer of a 
white dress under the beech tree : — 

" Doesn't she look like a fairy princess, 
Millicent ? I believe they are going to 'live 
happy ever after ! ' " 

u It's very queer, isn't it ? 7i answered 
Millicent. "I think I should like to marry 
a giant ! " 

With this startling assertion she toddled 
off to bed. 

by Google 

Original from 

Natural Optical Illusions. 

N our issue for October, 1897; 
appeared an article on Optical 
Illusions, which consisted 
chiefly of those of a scientific 
nature, in which diagrams of 
different kinds formed figures 
which deceived the 
eye. The examples 
treated in the follow- 
ing article, however, 
are of quite a different 
kind, as they consist 
of what may be called 
natural optical illu- 
sions, in which photo- 
graphs of the actual 
subjects present ap- 
pearances which the 
eye finds it difficult 
to explain* Such ex- 
amples are quite as 
interesting as those 
of the scientific kind 
and, so far as we are 
aware, have never 
before been treated 

of in any magazine. It is possible that 
many more examples exist as interesting 
as those which we are here able to present, 
and we shall be glad if the possessors 
of any such will forward them to us for 
inspection, so that if sufficient come to hand 
we can follow up 
this article with 
another possibly 
e v e n more 

The first ex- 
ample, which was 
sent to us by 
the Rev. ]. Mar- 
shall, LL.D,, 
Royal High 
School, Kdin- 
burgh, shows 
what is appar- 
ently a sheet of 
water in the fore- 
ground. We do 
not think that 
any of our rea- 
ders would in 
fifty guesses ar- 
rive at the cor- 
rect solution of 
what this seem- 
ing sheet of water 


really is before reading the following expla- 
nation, which Dr. Marshall sent us with the 
photograph : u It is an ordinary snap-shot 
by one of my boys of my house at North 
Queensferry, close to the sea + Everyone 
imagines the water in the foreground is the 
sea. The difficulty is 
that this is the side of 
the house away from 
the sea, and in this 
formal garden there is 
no pond of water at 
all The photograph 
was taken by resting 
the camera on a large 
sun-dial with a brass 
. plate on the top. The 
plate was wet with 
rain, and the apparent 
pool is simply the re- 
flection of the house 
in the brass plate." 

Our next example 
is one of very much 
the same kind, and it 
will , we think, be 
found at least as hard to make a correct 
guess at its true character. To all appear- 
ance it is a level piece of water forming a 
kind of weir, overflowing a bar at the left- 
hand side of the picture, while in the back- 
ground rises a bank with rocks and trees. 

To arrive at the 
solution the pic- 
ture must be 
turned round so 
that the right- 
hand side be- 
comes the bot- 
tom, when it will 
be seen that what 
seems a sheet of 
water is in reality 
the polished side 
of a railway car- 
riage, in which 
the wooded 
landscape is re- 
flected* This 
curious photo- 
graph was sent 
us by Mr. A* E, 
Rex, of Des- 
moines, Iowa. 

In the illustra- 
tion at the top 
of the next page 






nothing curious, at first sight, is visible. 
The point which renders it so remarkable 
will, however, become apparent on reading 

ties, but never, we think, one quite so 
striking or so absolutely deceiving to 
the eye as the photograph of the pieee 
of wood-carving which sve reproduce. 
This was executed by M r. James Hakes, 
of Aigburth Road, Liverpool, who, 
being also a photographer, was much 
struck, on looking at the print which 
he had taken of the carving, by the 
extraordinary way in which it appeared 
to be cut into the wood, instead of 
standing out in relief. The reader will 
observe that the figures of the poultry 
and rabbits and the other details of 
the carving appear, when the pic- 
ture is turned upside down, to stand 
out strongly, which is the way they are 
actually carved, while if looked at the right 
way up, as here printed, it is impossible to 


the following explanation, sent by the gentle- 
man who took the photograph, Mr. Alfred 
Priest, of j 7 9, Hagley Road, Edgbaston, 
Birmingham: "The two children depicted 
here I discovered reading 
in the garden like this, 
and it struck me as look- 
ing very' droll to see the 
one with apparently two 
right hands and the other 
with two left hands. So 
I got my brother to photo- 
graph them, while posing 
for the purpose. Of course 
one can easily see that the 
girl's left hand is support- 
ing the boy's head, while 
the boy's right hand sup- 
ports the girl's head/' 

The class of optical 
illusion to which our next 
example belongs is one of 
which we have given speci- 
mens from time to time 
in our section of Curiosi- 

avoid the impression that the figures are 
sunk below the level of the wood. 

An unintended effect of light and shade is 
also the cause of the deceptive appearance 
of a dogs head in the 
indentation of a felt hat 
which is reproduced in 
our next illustration, " I 
think," savs the sender, 
College Road, Dulwich, 
"the effect produced by 
the hat very remarkable, 
the more so as at the 
time I simply intended 
taking a photograph of 
the dog/' It is certainly 
a remarkable coinci- 
dence under the circum- 
stances that the hat 
should have happened to 
have taken the appear- 
ance of a dog rather 
than that of any other 




" It forms," says 
interesting photo- 

Our last example is sent us by 
Mr R- F. Prideaux, of 4, Elm Grove, 
Salisbury, and it is, we think, in 
some respects the most extraordinary of 
our present series. 
Mr. Prideaux, * 4 an 
graphic optical illusion, On looking at 
the face of the man on horseback the 
eyes will be seen either to be open and 
cast upwards (as I think they must have 
been) or to be closed with the eyelids 
down as if the man were asleep. In 
whichever way they first present them- 
selves, e.g., as open, they will, by steadily 
looking at the face for a few moments, 
dissolve and become the opposite, />,, 
closed ; and vke versa. This optical 
illusion appears to be very similar to 

that published by 
Co. some time ago 
one cube." For 

Messrs, Pears and 
of two cubes upon 
our own part we 
have not been able to make up our 
minds with any certainty as to 
whether the horseman is looking 
straight forward and a little upwards, 
as Mr, Prideaux thinks, or whether 
his gaze is directed towards the horse's 
in, -.k. 

OUT + 

Our next illusion is one 
which, so far as we know, 
is quite unlike any other 
which has ever appeared. 
It will be observed that in 
the photograph of the lady 
carrying a parasol the 
parasol appears to be inside 
out Mr, J. C. R, Watson, 
of the National Rank 
House, Burntisland, Fife, 
who took the photograph, 
believes that this singular 
illusion is caused by the 
parasol being striped. We 
think, however, it is more 
probably due to the fact 
that the material of the 
parasol being transparent, 
and allowing the light to 
penetrate it, the upper side 
of the parasol appears to 
be light and the lower 
side in shadow, when the 
eye expects the reverse, 
which would be the 
case if the material were 






ORTY years ago my Uncle 
James and Aunt Eve were 
travelling by the good old 
dak-gharree fashion through 
Northern India. It was no un- 
common thing, then, to travel 
thus for weeks together, resting by day, if 
hot, in dak -bungalows, and moving along at 
night, packed side by side in a rattle-trap 
vehicle resembling a large, square box on 
wheels. The inside of this was fitted with 
boards, so that you could lie and sleep. 
Behold Colonel Ward and my Aunt Eve, his 
bride (for this is a true story), being jigged 
along thus, one exquisite moonlight night, 
Uncle James snoring loudly ; or so says Aunt 
Eve, who was therefore unable to get to sleep* 
They stopped about one a.m, at a native 
village to change ponies, and Aunt Eve, 
without disturbing her spouse, got out of the 
ghairee to request a drink of milk from a 
native woman standing sleepily at the door 
of her mud huL 

If you know dak-gharree ponies you won't 
be surprised to hear that first (although dead 
tired) the old ponies refused to be moved out 
of their shafts, and then the new ones refused 
to be put in. 

The whole village awoke and turned out. 
Veils, hoots, and much jabbering were ex- 
pended upon the ponies, who always take it 
quite quietly and refuse to budge, but just 
shut their eyes and sleep until the fancy 
seizes them, when, whether you're back in the 
gharree or not, they start off without a 
moment's warning and you are left in the 
road, and no power will stop them. 

Aunt Eve got so tired of watching opera- 
tions (and so far the old ponies had refused 
to leave the shafts) that, finding a comfort- 
able spot under a banana-tree, and the night 
being hot, she sat down, leant her head back, 
and mast have fallen asleep. 

She woke with a jump, fearing the dak- 

igiiized by ^OOgle 

gharree might have departed. But, no, there 
it was, and the same noise going on ; and 
when the new ponies finally consented to . 
enter the shafts she, knowing their ways, 
jumped quickly in, found her husband still 
slumbering fast, dropped a light kiss upon 
him in the dark to make sure he was there, 
and then she laid her head back, and was 
soon in the land of dreams herself, and the 
ponies galloped them along and along, 
through mile upon mile of silent jungle, 
fields of maize, and wastes of feathery white 
pampas grass. 

Uncle James had ceased snoring, but after 
some hours he began again, but in a way he 
had never snored before. Uncle James, it 
appears (according to this chronicle), always 
snored in jerks. But now he kept up a loud, 
deep, regular refrain, more like a pig grunting, 
and so unlike himself that Aunt Eve began 
to think he might be in for some kind of 
apoplectic fit. 

He next breathed the name "Julia" — 
several times, 

Aunt Eve knew that none or Uncle James's 
sisters, cousins, or aunts were called Julia. 

"Kiss me, Julia," whispered Uncle James, 
"and let bygones be bygones." 

Aunt Eve sat up, 

The moon had gone behind the jungles, 
and it was pitch dark. She drew a box of 
matches from her pocket, lit one, and exam- 
ined Uncle James, Aunt Eve says it is no 
exaggeration to state that her hair (which fell 
to her knees) stood upright on her head. I 
always doubt this, for it would have knocked 
the gharree roof off. 

However, Fve no doubt it wanted to stand 
up, for instead of Aunt Eve's husband in the 
gharree, with whom she thought she had 
been travelling all night, there was someone 
else's husband, or, at any rate, a strange, fat 
Englishman she had never set eyes on before. 

Trembling with horror and bewilderment, 


9 8 


Aunt Eve lit so many matches, the better to 
examine her companion, that the scraping 
and fizzing woke him ; he opened his eyes, 
and then fie sat up with a bound. Here the 
last match went out. They sat in the dark 
facing each other. The ponies were going 
as they had not gone all night. 

It was plain, relates Aunt Eve, that the 
stranger seized the opportunity to make a 
few rapid alterations in his toilet, which 
had been meagre. She did the same, thrust- 
ing her curl-papers under a rug, and feeling 
glad that a certain complexion-improver, con- 
sisting of a thick layer of phosphorescent 
blue grease, had not been applied to her 
countenance overnight as usual, although it 
certainly possessed the advantage of shedding 
a kind of corpse -light upon surrounding 

" I cannot " said Aunt Eve, and then 


" Neither can I," said he. 

" Imagine," said Aunt Eve. 

" How this happened," said he. 

"I don't know India well," said Aunt Eve, 
as if to imply that this kind of thing might 
be "a national custom. 

" Nor I, and don't want to," said the man, 
breathing hard, for it was evident he was 
trying to get himself into some garment more 
imposing than a dressing-gown ; " but don't 
excite yourself." 

" But I must," said Aunt Eve ; " I must 
excite myself. My husband will be furious, 
and he has a terrific temper." 

This startled the stranger to such a degree 
that, regardless of not having yet removed his 
nightcap, he hastily sought some matches, 
and lit up a whole bunch of them, the better 
to look at Aunt Eve's face. 

Seeing a very pretty woman, of whom a 
husband was likely to be unreasonably 
jealous, he gave a groan and out went the 

" I know not how it occurred," said Aunt 
Eve, adopting the tone of the heroine in 
melodrama, " but we must stop the gharree ; 
my life's happiness may be wrecked." 

" And mine ! " said the hero ; " Julia would 
never let this be a bygone." 

" Did I get into your gharree," sobbed 
Aunt Eve, " believing it to be mine ? " 

" Or did I get into yours, believing it was 

" And if so, where is my gharree, and my 
innocent, unconscious husband ? " 

" It has for certain gone on with my trust- 
ing wife in it." 

" What ! " cried Aunt Eve, " your wife ? " 

Digitized by CjOOQ IC 

" My Julia," said the man ; " her terror at 
finding herself alone will be pitiable." 

" She won't be alone," said Aunt Eve ; 
" my husband is in our gharree — I told you 

" Here ! hi ! " cried the gentleman. " Stop 
the gharree ! stop ! " 

" It's all very fine to cry stop," said Aunt 
Eve. " But the driver is asleep, of course, 
and we are going at a terrific pace." 

" But how can he sleep and drive ? Oh, 
this horrible country ! " 

" They always sleep. The ponies drive 
themselves. I wonder whether we are in 
the mountains yet, on the edge of some 
precipice ? " 

" Precipice ? This comes of choosing 

India for one's wedding tour Where 

was your dak-gharree bound for ? " said the 
man, tearing the nightcap off his head, and 
sending it flying through the open door as if 
to intimate that until he found his Julia he 
forthwith renounced every comfort connected 
with this mortal life. 

" Ralka," replied Aunt Eve, wiping away a 

" My Julia is many miles from me, then, 
for this one is bound for Sikkooree, and we 
must have parted ways hours ago." 

Aunt Eve at this news burst out crying 
loudly, and felt in such a fury with her com- 
panion and his idiotic Julia that she could 
have scratched his face. 

" Stop ! " bawled the stranger to the driver 

" Beito ! " cried Aunt Eve ; and at last 
the driver woke and beitoed, and appeared 
rather scandalized at the change of partners 
that had taken place while he slept. 

The dawn was breaking. They were out 
on an open plain extending as far as eye 
could reach. No other dak-gharree was in 
sight. A few mud villages were waking, a 
string of coats being driven along by a small 
black urchin, and it was going to be a roast- 
ing hot day. 

"Oh, oh," cried Aunt Eve, surveying all 
this through the open gharree door, " I 
expected to wake and find myself in the cool, 
blue hills." 

"Well, my wife's in the cool, blue hills 
instead of you," said the stranger, ill- 
temperedly, standing in the dusty road and 
scratching his bald head ; " and all I can say 
is, I'd have given a hundred pounds for this 
not to have happened." 

" You need not talk in that tone," said my 

aunt, " for it's quite certain it was your wife's 

fault." rt . 

Original from 





" Don't let's waste time in bickering/ 1 said 
the stranger, fretfully, " but decide what's to 
be done." He was a short, stout, and very 
ugly individual by daylight, 

"I cannot collect my ideas," said Aunt 
Eve t who had now got out into the road, and 
looked limp^ and felt almost improper 
without her crinoline. Remember, it was 
forty years ago. You can't lie down in a 
dak-gharree in a crinoline, so she had 
removed it on starting the journey the 
previous evening. She had on a brown 
holla nd dress out of which the starch had 

" I keep trying to picture my husband's 
face when he wakes up and finds your wife 
there," said she, 

" It'll closely resemble mine, I should 
think, when I woke up and found you." 

11 Is your wife — er — at all pretty ? " inquired 
my aunt at this juncture, with a rather natural 
thrill of jealousy* 

u Pretty I " said the man. M Where have 
you lived not to have heard of the beautiful 
Miss MacDowd of Mac) tool ?" 

41 It isn't stuck on your back who you 
married," said Aunt Eve; "and if it were, 

by dOOgle 

I've never heard of a beautiful Miss Mac 
Anything — and " (aside) " doni want to." 

" Her father, The MacDowd, is a Scotch 

"I do know him," said Aunt Eve. " He 

a kilt and a tam-o'-shanter ; says * varra 

weel ' and *dinna forget' ; and 

is generally depicted in the 

*^ comic papers sitting sliding 

down a Scotch precipice or 

drinking Scotch whisky with 

Weary Willie and Tired Tim," 

" That'll do," said the 

MacDowd's son-in-law, " I'm 

in no humour for jokes, Tm 

worrying frightfully about my 

wife* Your husband, by-the- 

bye — what sort of chap did you 

say he was to look at ? ?I 

" Where can you have lived/ 5 
said Aunt Eve, "not to have 
heard of the handsome and 
fascinating raue^ Colonel Jimmy 
Ward, of the 8oth Royal Blood- 
suckers ? J! 

" You're joking, for certain ? " 
said the stranger, 
" I'm not" said Aunt Eve ; " his 

father's an Irishman " 

" I know him," said the man, look- 
ing through a fie Id -glass at the horizon. 
"He comes on to the stage with a 
shillelagh, says ' Begorra ' and ' Be aisy,' and 
sings * Killaloo,* " 

" All quite true," said Aunt Eve, "and his 
son would think nothing of running off with 
your wife, and potting at you from behind 
a hedge for carrying away his." 

"And it is in the company of this moon- 
lighting ruffian my sweet, unsophisticated 
Julia now finds herself !" murmured the man, 
relapsing into his usual cross tone. 

" My husband, Tm certain, is saying just 
the same of you. And now, what nationality 
are you? Will you tell me your name, as 
I've told you ours ? " 

" I'm a pure-bred Norman. My name's 
De Wynne, 1 ' said he. "We came over with 
the Edict of Nantes." 

"With the idiot of Nantes?" said Aunt 
Eve ; " was he really an ancestor of yours ? " 
" Never having heard of him, I can't 
inform you," said Mr, De Wynne, shortly ; 
"and now to return to business, and as we 
can't stand talking in this road all day, what 
are ive going to do ? " 

All this while Aunt Eve had sat on the 
gharree step, and Mr, De Wynne had stood in 
front of her, in the white dusty road, in a 
Original from 




mixed garb, consisting of pyjama trousers, a 

tennis shirt, a long white waterproof coat 
reaching to his knees, and a solar topee 
crammed upon a very red and cross looking 

After long discussion with the gharree- 
wallah, who, having made up his mind to an 
elopement, could not at first understand why 
the parties had so soon repented of their 
bargain, it was decided that the most sensible 
thing to do would be to return to Shirreedar, 
where the ponies and wives had been 
changed, and there await developments. 
Aunt Eve was sure Uncle James would at 
once do the same. 

Neither my aunt nor Mr, De Wynne had 
been long enough in the country to have 
mastered any Hindustani save 
the most quietly-domestic sen- 
tences such as u Bring me 
water," t( Take off my 
boots/ 1 ** Son of an owl, 
is breakfast ready ? " etc. 
Nothing meeting the 
present emergency 
exists in the " Higher 
Standard, " It was next 
door to impossible to 
make the gharree- 
wallah, who seems to 
have been a deeply 
moral and sympathetic 
person, understand what 
was required of him. 

The sahib and the 
mem -sahib had stood 
and quarrelled in the 
sun for half an hour, and seemed determined 
to part. The sahib said a lot about H another 
mem-sahib" and pointed frantically to the 
horizon, but whether he meant that his own 
mem-sahib was after him, or whether in that 
direction he expected to find a third lady, the 
poor gharree-wallah could not make out. 

The sahib's tern pot ary mem -sahib looked 
very sad, and the gharree-wallah (melted at 
her youth and beauty) clasped his hands and 
salaamed, and prayed earnestly of the fat 
sahib to forgive her her shortcomings and 
allow her another trial 

On being bellowed at to "start for 
Shirreedar and ^chuperau* his fat tongue 7 ' 
Ismail Khan spread out his hands and 
hunched his lean shoulders, and gave up this 
ferocious Henry the Eighth as a bad job. 

Hut the Shirreedar ponies were tired tired 
— tired ! New ones must be fetched from 
the village three miles off, and the gharree- 
wallah departed, leading the drooping, thirsty 

Digiiized by GoOgk' 

steeds, and leaving the gharree and its occu- 
pants in the middle of the road. 

By the time that Aunt Eve was in hysterics 
and Mr, De Wynne almost bursting out of his 
clothes; by the time the distant village had 
been searched and Ismail Khan discovered 
intoxicated in a hovel ; and by the time fresh 
ponies and a fresh driver had been procured, 
the sun was dropping like a ball of fire on 
the edge of the plain, and the gharree once 
more started back along the road they had 
come, with another Indian night fast falling 
around them. 

Aunt Eve sat with her feet hanging out at 


one door, and Mr. De Wynne with his back 
turned to her at the other. 

Dak -gharree doors slide back, so that you 
can do this, and it relieved the awkwardness 
of the situation. 

The evening wore slowly away, and having 
both decided that they hated each other, 
very little conversation was indulged in. 
Soon the sky became heavily overcast, blot- 
ling out the brilliant Indian stars* 

" I know what's going to happen now,'* 
said Aunt Eve ; "the monsoon is on us. It 
ought to have burst ten days ago/ 1 

" What do you mean ? " said Mr. De 
Wynne, in a most snappish tone ; u in this 
beastly land there's no moderation, The 
monsoon, I suppose, is the rains, Doesn't 
your rain come down in an ordinary quiet 
way like ours ? What bursts ? The sky ? " 

^Everything bursts," replied Aunt Eve, 

crossly ; M the sky, the rain, the ground, the 

rivers, everything! " 

Grigmal from 




It got more and more dark, and the wind 
shrieked, and the ponies could hardly go. 

All of a sudden the new gharree- wallah 
drew up. 

They had arrived at a tributary of the 
Ganges, which they must have crossed in the 
night over a bridge, and here, in the tempest 
and gloom, an excited crowd of natives was 
collected, and Aunt Eve, looking out, gave 
one scream. 

The bridge had given way ! 

It had been giving way, said the natives, 
for days ("And we came over it a few hours 
ago/ J whined Mr, De Wynne). 

A bullock -hack are e, too heavily laden, had 
passed over it this evening, and with that, 
and the wind, the whole structure had col- 
lapsed, as Indian bridges are apt to do. 

Two half-drowned bullocks could be seen, 
by torches, lying on the bank, having swum 
to shore ; and the hackaree-wallah stood and 
wept, and recounted the tale, and how he 
bad cut the bullocks free from the sinking 

"Which is the nearest other bridge?" 
loudly demanded Mr, De Wynne of nobody 
in particular. 

A native policeman, pigeon-English-speak- 
ing and intelligent- looking, came up, 

"Can I assist the sahib?" 

14 Yes, you can. Which is the nearest 
other bridge to this in- 
fernal spot ? " 

" Infernal spot ? No 
such place near here/ 1 

** You pretend you know 
English, >*/?" 

" Sometime* little, sahib," 
said the Intelligent Police- 

16 Try then to under- 
stand, you blockhead* 
Which is the nearest 
bridge to this?" 

"Oh, bridge! Oh, yes; 
twenty mile away ; but no 
pucka road/ 1 

"This is nice. What 
are you doing, you idiot ? " 

" Sahib make statement 
— writing ; I report com- 
plaint Commissioner/' 

" Ah, yes— I wilt report 
it — and get someone into 
trouble ! " assented Mr. De 
Wynne, furiously ; " first I 
wish to report our gharree- 
wallah, who bolted and 
left us in the road." 

" Bolted ? " inquired the guardian of the 

" Scooted, then." 

" Scooted ? " 

" Oh, lor— he left us — he deserted us — 
sumja? Deserted me and the mem-sahib" 
(waving towards Aunt Eve). 

"Oh ! — Ah ! I comprehend. He ran 
away from you and your wife ? Just so," 
entering this into his little book, 

" That lady is twi my wife," said Mr. De 
Wynne; "she's— she's " 

"That not necessary to explain, sahib," 
said the Intelligent One, 

" But* I tell you, it is necessary. It's the 
pith of the whole story. If you write anything 
you shall write all. My wife has gone away 
with another gentleman." 

"Yes, sahib? That often happen. That 
not our department" 

** He totally misunderstands you," cried 
Aunt Eve j u this is too dreadful." 

" The other gentleman — do you under- 
stand 7" bellowed Mr, De Wynne, pausing, 

" Certainly, sahib. Yes ? The other 
gent k ma /j — — " 

" Is this lady's husband." 

"Tut— tut— tut," ejaculated the official, 
writing it dow f n ; " that very bad." 

"And my wife got into his dak-gharree in 
the night and drove away with him, and 

this lady got into 
k mine. 

by Google 

OF AN OWL. HOW «Qfig)rfgfffl£ffj'" t *I" 




11 And why wishing to cross river again and 
make fresh unpleasantness?" inquired the 
policeman. " You each got lady you like." 

" But that's just it. We haven't! Son of 
an owl, how am I to explain myself ? " 

" You not like this lady ? " 

"No, I do not. Now/" 

"That very quick tiring. What she done? " 

" She has done nothing. I never did like 
her. She wants to return to her husband, 
and I want to return to my wife. It's all a 
beastly mistake." 

"Yes. These mistakes very much nasty, 
sahib, but no patch up so easy." 

"Take that," remarked Mr. De Wynne, 
fairly losing his temper at the policeman's 
intelligence and kicking him down the river- 

" Here comes the rain," said Aunt Eve. 

Down it came. The thunder clapped 
overhead, vivid flashes of forked lightning 
rapidly dispersed the knot of natives, police- 
man and all, and the rain was as if the 
heavens had opened. The gharree-wallah 
got under the gharree, and Mr. De Wynne 
and Aunt Eve got inside it, and had to shut 
the doors, and there they sat all night, for the 
storm never once abated. 

When morning came the outlook was 
still more hopeless. 

The river, frightfully swollen and quite 
impassable, raced along, dirty, yellow, and 
turbulent ; not a native would venture on it, 
and as the daylight grew there was revealed 
upon the opposite bank another dak-gharree, 
with Uncle James and the MacDowd's 
daughter inside ! 

" My James ! " cried Aunt Eve, looking 
out, much as Noah must have done during 
the flood. 

"My Julia!" said Mr. De Wynne, 
scrambling down with a field-glass; "let me 
behold her sweet features." 

" Tell me what my James looks like, for 
pity's sake ! " 

" He talks to my Julia. He smiles. She 
laughs. I am glad they are happy," said 
Mr. De Wynne, in a tone that would certainly 
not have reassured Uncle James. 

All that day the four severed lovers gazed 
at each other across the angry waters, which 
widened and widened, so that the gharrees 
had to be dragged farther and farther back, 
until, by nightfall, quite half a mile of 
Ganges water separated them. The ponies 
had long ago been led away to a neighbour- 
ing village consisting of a handful of mud 

No one who knows the Indian monsoon 

by t^ 



season will be surprised to hear that this 
state of affairs continued for four days and 
four nights. 

The ladies spent the nights in the gharrees. 
The gentlemen retired underneath the 
gharrees, sheltering themselves from the 
weather by blankets and besatees hung 
around, though these were occasionally blown 
away by morning. 

" Oh, Mr. De Wynne," cried Aunt Eve, the 
second morning. " Oh, come here quick. 
What has happened to my husband ? He 
has been bitten by a cobra, and is walking 
along the bank swollen to a frightful size." 

" A cobra ! " shouted Julia's spouse, strug- 
gling from under the gharree; "how, when, 
where ? Alas, Julia, that I should ever have 
brought you to this forsaken country ! " 

" Is it my James ? " cried Aunt Eve, " or 
has he disappeared ? And if so, what is that 
huge, walking monster like an animated 
balloon, with a human head at the top and 
human legs underneath, at this moment 
looking into the gharree for your wife? " 

" Merciful Providence ! " cried the dis- 
tracted husband, rushing for a field-glass, 
" what new misfortune is this ? What jungle 
monster has perhaps devoured your James 
(hence the swelling) and will next start on 
Julia ? " 

A few agitated moments passed, during 
which Aunt Eve declares it is no exaggera- 
tion to say that her blood congealed in her 
veins, her heart leaped into her mouth, and 
her eyes sprang from their sockets. 

These miracles in her anatomy having 
taken place, leaving Aunt Eve apparently 
just the same to look at, it transpired that the 
balloon was Uncle James, who, to keep him- 
self dry when walking about, had hit upon 
the notion of getting bodily into Aunt Eve's 
crinoline, which she had left in their gharree ; 
tied the string round his neck, and with a 
waterproof sheet pinned round, defied the 
weather and promenaded their bank all day. 

"What an excellent idea," said Mr. De 
Wynne, hunting for his wife's crinoline, 
which she had also shed, and, having found 
it, he got into it, and the two husbands, thus 
attired, took their constitutionals on opposite 
banks, glared at each other, and occasionally 
visited the nearest villages for food, where 
their appearance caused great consternation, 
the natives fleeing at their approach. 

Aunt Eve and the MacDowd's daughter sat 
at their open gharree-doors and constantly 
wept at the general state of depression all 

But all things end. A break came in the 




monsoon. The rain ceased, the sky cleared, 
the sun shone. The two wives came forth, 
and the two husbands, and blew each other 
kisses across the waters. 

Mr. De Wynne departed in his crinoline 
(for fear of more rain), and interviewed the 
Intelligent Policeman in the mud village. 

MacDool. The MacDowd will be pleased 
to entertain you." 

** Thanks," said Aunt Eve, "thank yon very 
much ; we will And should a stray wind ever 
waft you over to Ireland, my husband and I 
hope you will pay l Aeushla Colleen J a visit. 
That's the name of our place. It's situated 


<;ki£at consternation. 

A raft was rapidly built, and on the fourth 
morning the river was quiet enough to launch 
it, with Aunt Eve and Mr, De Wynne on 

i4 The crossing and the meeting," Aunt 
Etc relates, " were more like the final rescue 
scene at the Adelpht." 

I can well believe it. 

The MacDowd's daughter knelt and 
prayed, and finally fainted. Aunt Eve stood 
on the raft, her long hair (which she had not 
been able to turn up, having no hairpins) 
blowing in the breeze; and I've no doubt 
Aunt Eve looked very pretty thus, and 
prettier still when, on touching land, she fell 
sobbing and laughing into Uncle James's 

Colonel Ward then shook hands with Mr. 
Oe Wynne and thanked him for the care of 
his wife, and Mr. De Wynne shook hands 
*ith Colonel Ward and did the same. 

The brides then bowed to each other, 
somewhat stiffly— but that was excusable. 

4 * I've done with this country/' said Mr. 
De Wynne, when they finally parted. " I 
intend sailing for England at once. I hope, 
Colonel, if you and Mrs. Ward are ever up 
our way North, you'll call and look us up at 

on the edge of a bog ; but, begorra, if you 
don't mind that, it's welcome you'll both 

u What did it all mean?" asked Uncle 
James of Aunt Eve afterwards; * £ and what in 
Heaven's name is ' Acushla Colleen ' ? " 

"The same thing prohahk™ replied my 
aunt, "as his MacDowds and MacDools. 
We amused ourselves talking like that, dur- 
ing those long days in the gharree, Jimmy, 
darling. And now let me go and get into 
my crinoline," 

" We'll keep that crinoline," said Uncle 
James, " and hand it down as a relic in the 

Which has been done. 

Uncle James and Aunt Eve still live, and 
are getting old, but they still tell this story 
with much gusto. 

The two other actors in it they have never 
seen or heard of again, for as no such 
person as the MacDowd of Mac Dool could 
be found in any book of Scotch landed 
gentry or peerage, they have concluded that 
he existed chiefly in Mr. De Wynne's imagi- 
nation, too vast an area in which to seek 

by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 



the pily possesses the un- 
king. mistakable, but inde- 
finable, gift of being 
personally interesting. Amongst 
living monarchs examples of 
possession of this quality or nega- 
tion of it are severally found 
in the German Emperor 
and the King of the Bel- 
gians. Among English states- 
men, living and of recent 
times, it will appear upon 
examination that the attraction is 
very rare. In the House of Lords 
the Marquis of Salisbury monopo- 
lizes it on the Ministerial Bench, 
On the Opposition side Lord 
Rosebery, in perhaps even fuller 
degree, is the sole depository of 
the secret* On the Treasury 
Bench of the House of Commons 
Mr Arthur Balfour and Mr. A wpvus 

Chamberlain exclusively weave ms MA J^ ,V 
the magic spell ; whilst on 
the Front Opposition Bench Sir William 
Harcourt in this respect sits alone. Of 
past Ministers Mr. Disraeli and Mr, Glad- 
stone possessed the mysterious quality in 
superlative degree. 

Since his memorable illness the Prince of 
Wales has always been popular. He was, of 
course, in all respects, the same man when^ 
after unusually long chrysalis state, he 
bloomed into Sovereignty. Nevertheless, 
the public expected something different, and 
were not disappointed. The earliest public 
utterances and actions of the King struck 
the right note. The homely English mind 
was pleased by reiteration of affectionate 
reference to the ■* beloved mother." It 
recognised a fine heart and mind in the 
modest sheltering of the King behind the 
revered figure of his predecessor on the 
throne, and in the solemn pledge closely to 
follow in her footsteps. This satisfaction 
was confirmed by promulgation of the 
addresses to u my people " at home and 
beyond the seas, which in simple, manly 
language acknowledged the sympathy evoked 
by the death of the Queen and renewed 
promise to walk in her ways. 

man of ^ e P" nce °f ^' a l es i m varied 

. circumstances, showed himself a 

born and trained man of business. 

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One of his latest undertakings 
was the presidency of the Com- 
mittee of the English Section of 
the Paris Exhibition. A member 
of it, himself the head of a great 
business enterprise, told me he 
had learnt something from the 
manner in which the affairs of 
the committee were organized 
and directed from Marlborough 
House, This quality had full 
field for its display on the acces- 
sion of the King. From the very 
first morning of his reign all the 
arteries of life in connection with 
the Crown felt the wholesome 
impulse of a fresh current Under 
the mild domestic dominion of 
the Queen the order of things 
about the Court had fallen into 
sluggish condition* They were 
stirred up on the morrow of the 
Queen's death, and are not likely 
to relapse. 

The King shares with his 
Imperial nephew a natural leaning towards 
the regulation of Court ceremonial. Within 
due bounds he loves pageants, and insists 
upon having them ordered and carried out 
with strictest attention to precedent, Within 
the first fortnight of his reign London, not 
overstrained with such 
excitement, beheld two 
spectacles worthy its posi- 
tion among the capitals 
of the world. One 
the stately 
that escorted 
the dead 
Queen to her 
last home. 
The other was the open- 
ing of Parliament by the 
King in person. There 
is well-founded expecta- 
tion that, when the time 
of mourning shall be ac- 
complished, the promise 
here given, of varying 
dull business life with 
historic pageantry, will be 
fully redeemed. Edward 
VI 1. 1 as has been said, 
is essentially a business 
Original from 


the lmi'ekial nephew. 



man. He thoroughly understands the 
business of a King, and may be counted 
upon to conduct it on the highest plane. 

Those who come most closely in 
kindly contact with the King speak 
tact* with fullest admiration of his 
never- failing tact, a priceless gift 
Fhich has its foundation in kindness of heart. 
I have personal recollection of an example 
forth coming on an occasion when I had the 
honour of meeting the Prince of Wales at 
dinner. It was a little festival given at the 
Junior Carlton Club by Lord Randolph 
Churchill. 'I" he guests were severally pre- 
sented to His Royal Highness, who, in his 
pleasant, unaffected manner, conversed with 
each for a few moments. In fulfilment of 
this matter-of-course duty he might have 
talked to me about the weather, 
or if he had desired to choose a 
more special and equally familiar 
topic might have referred to pro- 
ceedings in Parliament the night 
before, What he did talk about, 
with beaming face and hearty 
laughter, was an article written 
" From the Cross Benches," pub- 
lished in the London Observer as 
far back as six years, describing 
Mr. Christopher Sykes's adven- 
tures when bringing in a " Bill to 
Amend the Fisheries (Oysters, 
Crabs, and Lobsters) Act, 1877." 
Newspaper articles of the day 
before yesterday are like the snow 
on the river, gone and for ever. 
It \& true that Christopher Sykes 
was an old friend and companion 
of His Royal Highness, a fact that 
would dispose him to read the 
article if it came in his way. But 
in the careful choice of this far-reaching remi- 
niscence — Lord Randolph's dinner was given 
early in the Session of 1890; the Christopher 
Sykes article appeared in May, 1884 — was 
testified painstaking effort to give pleasure in 
a very small matter. It was the same spirit 
that prompad His Royal Highness to say 
that, finding the Observer on his table on 
Sunday morning, he always turned first to 
the " Cross Bench " article. 

It is generally assumed that the 
Sovereign contributes nothing 
to direct taxation during life, 
and that at death Royal 
property passes without the tribute of Death 
Duties. The latter is, I believe, the fact* 
But on a, portion of her income Queen 
Victoria certainly |>aid Income-tax. In 

the i J Otr I.ALKICA] i:> FEE. 



Vd. **iL— 14. 

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each of the last four years of her reign the 
sum of ^2,867 was debited to this account 
in the department of the Lord Steward* 
Through the same period the Lord Chamber- 
lain paid ,£1,460 a year, the Master of the 
Horse ^1,377, and the Mistress of the 
Robes £167. 

Her late Majesty's annual visits to the 
Continent ran to a considerable sum In 
1899 it was ^4,383, exclusive of nearly 
;£ 1,300 expenses incurred on the same 
account by the Master of the Horse. In 
the same year Her Majesty's autumn visit to 
Balmoral cost ^10,590, her stay at Osborne 
considerably exceeding ^1,200, Another 
charge that fell heavy on the Royal purse was 
occasioned by the visits of foreign Sovereigns. 
The King of Siam's call in 1897 cost the 
Queen ^944* The visit of the 
German Emperor in 1891 ac- 
counted for ^1,766, his later 
visit in 1899 costing only ^465. 
This is in addition to consider- 
able incidental expenses borne by 
the State, 

A large sum appeared in the 
estimates voted by the House of 
Commons on account of the mar- 
riages of the Princess Louise and 
the Duke of York, Queen Vic- 
toria incurred additional charges 
out of her privy purse, amount- 
ing to j£sT5 in one case and 
^1,889 in the other. The 
late Queen generously bore 
the costs of the funeral of the 
Duke of Clarence (^514) 
and of the Duchess of Teck, 
which ran up to ^680, 

There are some increases 
and some deductions in the 
King's Household as compared with his 
Royal mother's. Our Poet Laureate is still 
left to draw his ^70 -a year. But the snug 
place of the Reader of Windsor Castle, with 
a salary of ^200, has not been filled up 
under the new reign. 

the w hen moving for the appoint- 

» ment of the Civil List Com- 

mittee the Chancellor of the 

SAVINGS, -p k - , - if 

Exchequer surprised the House 
of Commons by the statement that for some 
years past the sum provided for the expenses 
of the Sovereign fell short of the demand, 
Queen Victoria making up the balance out 
of her privy purse* This ran directly 
counter to the popular idea that, owing to 
the modest way in which the Court was kept, 
there were considerable savings on the Civil 




List expenditure. The Ministerial state- 
ment and the popular rumour were alike 
true. For the last eleven years of her reign 
Queen Victoria found it necessary to draw 
upon her privy purse to balance expenditure. 
The sums so appropriated varied from a 
payment of ^4,480 in 1892 to a maximum 
of ^17,000 in 1894. 

There was in 1S87 a special disbursement 
of ^£42,602 on account of the Jubilee. Prior 
to that date, running back to the first year of 
her reign t there were regular savings of sums 
so considerable as to amount to ,£824,025. 
Per centra, the Queen contributed out of 
these savings to current expenses ^170,256, 
leaving a balance to the good of the privy 
purse of ^653,769. With compound in- 
terest accruing over more than threescore 
years this handsome sum would assume 
really magnificent proportions. 

It would be difficult to find more 

the striking evidence of the growth 

duchies, of national prosperity during 

Queen Victoria's long reign than 

is presented in the accounts of the revenues 

of the Duchy of Lancaster and the Duchy of 

Cornwall The first was the pocket-money 

of the Queen ; the second the perquisite of 

the Prince of Wales. In 1838, the first 

complete year of her reign, Queen Victoria 

drew from the Duchy of Lancaster the 

sum of ^5,000. In 1899, the penultimate 

year of her life, the Queen received, as she 

had done during the three previous years, 

the round sum of ^60,000, 

The first complete year's payment out of 
the revenues of the Duchy of Cornwall paid 
to the account of the Prince of Wales was 
^18,579. This was in the year 1843, when 
His Royal Highness, just past his second year, 
regarded a thousand pounds here or there 
with sublime indifference. During 
his minority the revenue accumu- 
lated with steady growth, till in 
i860 it exceeded ^45,000. In 
1899, the last year to which 
accounts were made up, it fell a 
few pounds short of ^67,000. 

This princely sum 
will henceforth be 
paid to the Duke of 
Cornwall in addition 
to the ^30,000 a 
year allotted to him- 
self and the Duchess 
in the settlement uf 
the Civil List, The 
revenues of the 
Duchy of Lancaster 




go to His Majesty, in supplement of the 
^470,000 a year voted to the Civil List 
Of the Committee appointed in 
1889 to inquire into the former 
practice of the House of Com- 
mons with respect to provision 
"* for members of the Royal 
Family only three sat on the Civil List 
Committee of the present year They were 
Mr, Labouchere, Mr + Wharton, and Mr, 
(now Sir Samuel) Hoare. Of members of 
the former Committee who still have seats in 
the House of Commons are Mr, Chamber- 
lain, Mr. Burt, Sir John Gorst, and Mr. John 
Morley, Two, Mr + Goschen and Lord 
Harrington, have gone to the House of 
Lords. Three have retired from Parlia- 
mentary life: Mr. Illingworth, Mr. Sexton, 
and Mr. Whit bread. Death has been busy 
with the group. Passed away from con- 
sideration of Civil Lists and other mundane 
matters are Mr. Gladstone, Sir Walter Bartte- 
lot, Sir James Corry, Sir Stafford North cote, 
Sir Hussey Vivian, and Mr. W. H. Smith, 
who presided, He is represented on the 
Committee of the present year by his son. 

The result of this inquiry was a 

, compromise largely due to the 



wisdom and tact of Queen 
Victoria, The point of inquiry- 
was as to the limit, if any, of the 
national obligation to provide for the grand- 
children of the Sovereign, Mr. Labouchere 
had a short way of settling the business. 
Then, as now, he moved a report in oppo- 
sition to that submitted by the Chairman. 
He desired the Committee to declare that, 
apart from the Civil List, in the growing 
revenues of the Duchy of I .ancaster and the 
Duchy of Cornwall there were ample funds 
from which provision might be made for the 
children of the Prince and Princess 
of Wales, He further asserted that 
the funds at the disposal of Her 
Majesty were sufficient to enable 
her to make provision for her grand- 
children by her younger sons and 
daughters without trenching on the 
annual expenditure 
deemed necessary for 
the honour and 
dignity of the Crown. 
In fine, Mr, Labou- 
chere invited the 
Committee to record 
its emphatic opinion 
that i4 the cost of 
the maintenance of 
members of the 


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Original from 



Royal Family is already so great that under 
no circumstances should it be increased. 
In its opinion, a majority of Her Majesty's 
subjects regard the present cost of Royalty 
as excessive, and it deems it therefore 
most undesirable to prejudice any deci- 
sions that may be taken in regard to this 
cost by Parliament whenever the entire 
subject comes under its cognizance, by grant- 
ing, either directly or indirectly, allowances or 
annuities to any of the grandchildren of the 
Sovereign/' Only Mr Burt joined Mr, 
Labouchere in signing this minority report 
Mr* Gladstone, Mr. Morley^ and the rest of 
the Committee agreed in negativing it. 

The majority report admitted that the 
Queen would have a claim on the liberality 
of Parliament, should she think fit to apply 
for such grants as, according to precedent, 
might become requisite for the support of 
the Royal Family. But the Queen made it 
known that she did not propose to press 
this claim on be- 
half of the children 
of her daughters 
and her younger 
sons. With re- 
spect to the family 
of the Prince of 
Wales the Com- 
mittee recom- 
mended the crea- 
tion of a special 
fund by the 
quarterly payment 
of ^£9,000 out of 

the Consolidated Fund. An annual sum of 
^40,000 was proposed, but, on the motion of 
Mr. Gladstone, it was reduced to ^36^000. 

For the last eleven years the Prince of 
Wales, nominally with the assent of the First 
Lord of the Treasury and the Chancellor of 
the Exchequer, divided this sum amongst his 
children. Being authorized only during the 
reign of Queen Victoria and for a period of 
six months after her demise, the payment 
lapses in this month of July. 

For some years before his death 
Sir Edward Watkm had with- 
drawn from the House of 
Commons- Failing health and 
years began to tell upon an 
iron constitution. There came over him 
an unfamiliar longing for repose. He 
held a safe seat at Hythe, whether he 
marched under the Liberal flag or ranged 
himself in support of a Unionist Govern- 
ment- After experience, going back nearly 
forty years, he had grown aweary of West- 

rffwftfe •.tVNN£t 1 ; 





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minster. The one thing that kept him 
constant to the Parliamentary post was the 
hope of carrying a Bill authorizing his beloved 
Channel Tunnel. He found a powerful 
recruit in Mr. Gladstone, who not only 
time after time voted in favour of the second 
reading of the Bill but supported it in 
luminous speeches* At the same time he was 
careful to explain that in this matter he merely 
exercised the privilege of a private member 

In addition to an overwhelming majority 
in successive Parliaments, the Channel Tunnel 
had arrayed against it two such doughty 
opponents as Mr. Chamberlain and Lord 
Randolph Churchill. Early in the 8o's Sir 
Edward, who was not accustomed to allow 
the grass to grow under his feet, commenced 
the works designed to connect the Continent 
and Great Britain beneath the silver streak. 
Mr. Chamberlain, at the time President of 
the Board of Trade, appointed a Depart- 
mental Committee to inquire into the project. 

Meanwhile he 
issued an edict for- 
bidding further 
progress with the 
works. Sir Edward 
was furious. He 
confided to me a 
project he w t hs 
quite capable of 
carrying out 

" If," he said, 

" the Tunnel works 

are permanently 

stopped, I will 

erect on the site at the British end a pillar 

of stone lofty enough to be seen by ships 

passing up and down the great water- way." 

In fine weather, he mused with undis- 
guised satisfaction,, it might be seen from the 
coast of France. On its front he would 
have engraved an inscription recording how 
the works had been visited by the Prince of 
Wales, by Mr. Gladstone, the Speaker of the 
House of Commons, peers and commoners 
galore ; how, when the great enterprise 
was fairly started, the works were stopped by 
(t Joseph Chamberlain, of Birmingham." 

In the Session of 1888 Sir 
Edward, undaunted by pre- 
vious repulses, again moved the 
second reading of the Bill Mr. 
Gladstone came down on a Wednesday after- 
noon to support it. But the debate is 
memorable chiefly for a speech contributed 
by Lord Randolph Churchill. 

Replying to the stock argument that in 
case of war with France the under - sea 







approach to our island home would be a 
source of danger. Sir Edward showed how by 
an electric button pressed in a room in 
London the British end of the tunnel could 
be blown up and approach made impractic- 
able. This greatly tickled Lord Randolph's 
fancy* With dramatic gestures of out- 
stretched forefinger he pictured the members 
of the p Cabinet presided over by Lord 
Salisbury deciding who was to press the 
fateful button. On a division a second 
reading was refused in a full House by 
nearly two to one* The figures were : for the 
second reading 1^5, against ^07. 

In business relations Sir Edward 

out of was an uncompromising friend, 

harness, an implacable adversary* When 

he took a man up T being 
thoroughly convinced of his capacity, he 


pushed him along to the highest places. 
When he fought a man he was as bitterly 
relentless as is indicated in the incident of 
his projected monument to Mr. Chamberlain. 
Through many years the relative position in 
the railway world of Mr. J. S. Forbes, of the 
Chatham and Dover line, were akin to those 
filled in the political field by Mr. Gladstone 
and Mr. Disraeli, 

Which railway magnate represented Mr, 
Gladstone, and which Mr + Disraeli, those 
familiar with the twain must settle for 

In his private relations Sir Edward was 
kind-hearted in the extreme, always ready and 
anxious to serve someone, however humble 
his position. But he carried the peremp- 
toriness of the Boardroom into domestic 

life, I remember staying with him at the 
little chalet he built for himself on Snowdon, 
having in his princely manner purchased one 
flank of the great Welsh mountain. It was a 
lovely autumn night, with the stars shining 
like moons. A large telescope stood on the 
lawn before the dining-room w-indow. Sir 
Edward directed his butler to arrange the 
instrument for the edification of his guests. 
What he was chiefly anxious for was that 
we should see and recognise Jupiter, 

"Now, Mullet/' he would say, addressing 
the butler in sharp tones of command, stand- 
ing by him as he manipulated the telescope, 
" where's Jupiter ? Come, turn on Jupiter." 
As if the planet were a soda-water siphon or 
the plug in the bath-room. 

Staying with him another time at Northen- 
den, his old home near Manchester, where 
he spent many happy years 
of married life and where he 
died full of years and honours, 
he was much distressed at 
dinner because he could not 
think of any suitable and 
sufficient way of entertaining 
his guests. He came down 
to breakfast next morning 
radiant. Ikying awake at 
night burdened with the 
trouble a happy thought 
flashed upon him. It was 
the time when the two great 
northern lines, competing for 
Scotch traffic, had each put 
on an express service covering 
the distance from London to 
Edinburgh in eight hours. 
"I'll tell you what we'll do," 
he said, rubbing his hands gleefully; "we'll 
go up to town this afternoon, dine and sleep 
there ; get up in good time in the morning, go 
to Edinburgh with the fast train, sleep there ; 
come back next morning, catching a train 
that will bring us back here for a late dinner.'* 
He was surprised that this alluring pro- 
gramme was not acclaimed. For himself he 
was as comfortable in a railway carriage as in 
an arm-chair in his dining-room. He used 
to say that the safest place in the world was 
a railway carriage travelling over a well-laid 
road at a speed of fifty miles an hour. 

Sir Edward had his faults of temper, occa- 
sionally perhaps of taste, But he was of the 
class that have made England great. In 
public he said some harsh things ; in private 
he did many kind ones. 

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Original from 

4 . ~**i. *L 

From the French, 

MAN who will cross the 
path of your son will be the 
cause of great misfortunes to 

Such was the prediction 
of the oldest magician at the 
Court of the King of the Richanians, and it 
was in consequence of this prediction that 
the King issued a severe edict. Each time 
that his son and heir, Ali, left the palace it 
was the duty of a crier to inform the people. 
Then in an instant the streets became empty, 
the houses were closed, the doors of the 
town were carefully guarded Deserted and 
silent, Richa was like a dead city. 

Several years passed in this manner with- 
out any catastrophe taking place ; and the 
King was rejoiced in his heart because the 
wise measures he had adopted had defeated 
the sinister prediction. 

Now T one day the criers had announced 
that Prince All would proceed to the 
Baths at the eighth hour. Thus, the 


streets through which the Prince passed, 
surrounded by his escort, were entirely 
deserted. As far as the eye could see no 
living thing appeared in the abandoned 
streets* and all the houses were closed as in 
a time of general mourning. Notwithstand- 
ing, at a spot near the baths, stretched on 
the ground behind one of the pillars of the 
arcades , a mendicant slept. At the sound 
of the approaching horses* hoofs he suddenly 
awoke and, leaning upon his elbow, half 
rose, the better to see the passing cavalcade. 
But in an instant the soldiers of the Prince's 
guard rushed upon him, beating him with 
the butt-end of their muskets, and drove him 
howling from the spot. 

The next day a revolution took place. 
The King was assassinated by conspirators 
against his throne, Prince All escaped 
death by a miracle, and left his country to 
live in exile an existence full of sadness and 

Ali, however,, was a young man of more 
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than ordinary intelligence. He meditated 
profoundly over the misfortunes which had 
befallen him, and was not long in satisfying 
himself as to their cause. 

"All our troubles/ 1 he 
menced on the day after 
cant, who was maltreated 
I am convinced that this 
magician in disguise, who 

reasoned, M com- 
I met the mendi- 
by my bodyguard, 
mendicant was a 
now avenging 

the outrage we inflicted upon him. I have 
no doubt this magician is the Lord Abd-el- 
Kader of Djilane — the most powerful of 
necromancers. I have often heard that he 
loves to mingle with the people, dressed in 
the poorest garb. Therefore I will go to seek 
the Lord Alxld-Kader; I will kneel before 
him, and bow 
my head in the 
dust. Abd-el- 
Kader is gene- 
rous as he is 
powerful, and 1 
am sure he will 
forgive me." 

On the same 
day Ali set out 
on his journey, 
wal king the 
whole distance, 
as he was very 
poor ; but he 
was obliged to 
walk a long and 
weary way. His 
only nourish- 
ment consisted of the 
dates he gathered on 
the road ; to quench 
his thirst he drank at 
the nearest spring. 
Each day he sheltered 
himself for a little while 
beneath the shade of 
the palm trees. When 
refreshed by sleep he 
started again, plodding 
on thus almost without 
cessation, day and 
night. Exhausted with 
fatigue, his feet bruised, and his legs sinking 
under him, he was near the point of falling 
to the ground, when suddenly appeared 
before him the great magician of whom he 
was in search. 

Ali prostrated himself, and his forehead 
touched the dust. Then with a supplicating 
voice he said : — 

( *Oh, mighty Abd -el- Kader, my father 
gravely offended you on my account. Your 


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vengeance was just. You have caused my 
father to perish, and you have sent me into 
exile to live a life of misery and wretchedness. 
No doubt the Fates ordained it should be 
thus. But see to what a state I am reduced. 
1 am come to crave your clemency, because I 
can no longer live under the weight of your 
anger. I have journeyed many days and 
nights. I am footsore, and my strength is 
exhausted, Oh r master, your goodness is 
equal to your power. Will you not forgive 
the most unfortunate of princes ?" 

The good Abd-el-Kader was touched by 
his sincere repentance, 

u I forgive you, my son," said he. £< Rise, 

and remember the words I am about to 

speak. I will make your 

fortune, and will restore 

to you everything that 

you have lost by the fault 

of your father- Promise 

only always to obey me, 

to undertake nothing 

without consulting me, 

and to follow without 

question my orders. Now 

go to the neighbouring 

forest and set 

your springe, 

A bird will 

come and be 


Bring it to 


Ali entered 
the forest, as 
he was told, 
set his springe, 
and concealed 
himself in the 
Almost at the 
same instant 
he heard the 
whirring of 
wings, and a 
beautiful bird 
appeared- So 
dazzling was 
his plumage that the shade of the forest was 
brilliantly illuminated by it. Ali put forth 
his band and seized the beautiful bird. The 
captive struggled, and at last escaped and 
flew away, leaving in the hands of his would- 
be captor nothing but a bunch of his 
marvellous plumes. 

And wonderful plumes they were ! Soft to 
the touch, warm to the eye, coloured with 
exquisite and varied tints. On waving them 

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the Prince saw that the light produced upon 
them a thousand kaleidoscopic effects ; just 
as when the jewel-merchant plunges his hand 
into his treasure-box is to be seen the sparkle 
of diamonds or the milky beauty of pearls, the 
flame of rubies, the soft green of emeralds, 
and the changing blues of turquoises or 
sapphires. And all these tints of the 
wonderful feathers seemed to blend into a 
harmony caused by their diversity. Even 
the rainbow itself was rivalled by the delicate 
colours of these wonderful feathers. 

Ali looked at them without appreciation 
of their beauty, for despair was in his heart. 
44 Alas ! " he sighed, " I have failed to fulfil 
the first command of my master." 

" Do not grieve, my son," said a voice, 
which Ali recognised as that of Abd-el- 
Kader. " Take these plumes, return to your 
native country, and offer them to the present 
King of the Richanians." 

Ali immediately set out upon his journey, 
greatly comforted by the kind tone of the 
magician. On his arrival at Richa he went 
to the palace and offered the plumes to the 
King, as he had been told. As soon as the 
King saw them he was thrown into ecstasy. 

" How marvellous are these plumes ! " he 
exclaimed. "To possess them I would 
have given all the treasures of my kingdom. 
He who brings them and offers them to me 
of his own free will is dearer to me than any 
of my subjects." 

And from that day Ali was installed at the 
palace, and the King overwhelmed him with 
presents and dignities. 

But all these favours naturally excited the 
jealousy of the courtiers. Courts are always 
full of plots and counterplots. Of this Ali 
soon had an experience. The King had a 
Grand Vizier whose name was Slimane, who 
up to that time had been all - powerful. 
Slimane, foreseeing in the new favourite his 
future rival, conceived an enmity towards 
him, but he was artful enough not to show 
this sentiment outwardly, and reflected long 
on the best means of quietly suppressing Ali. 
At last, after maturing his plans, Slimane went 
to the King and said : — 

" O King, the plumes given to your 
Majesty by Ali are unquestionably beautiful 
in the extreme. But the bird to which they 
belong is far more . beautiful. I am astonished 
that Ah has only brought you a few feathers, 
and has not esteemed you worthy to possess 
the bird itself. He knows where it is to be 
found. If he loves you truly, he will bring it 
to your Majesty." 

The King, thus prompted by the crafty 

Digitized by CjOOQ IC 

Slimane, sent for Ali forthwith, and forbade 
him to appear again in his presence until he 
was ready to bring the marvellous bird. 

Ali heard this edict with consternation. 
"What is the good," he sighed, " to have 
restored me to prosperity, since it was to be 
of such brief duration ?" 

44 Do not afflict yourself, my son," replied 
a voice which Ali instantly recognised; " but 
return to the forest and again set your 

Ali obeyed, and arriving at the forest had 
no sooner made his preparations than the 
bird again came and was caught in the trap. 
This time the young Prince took good care 
not to allow it to escape, and, filled with joy, 
he brought it back to the King. As soon 
as the monarch saw the fairy bird Ali was 
restored to his favour. He embraced him, 
and said : — 

' You are the most worthy of my subjects. 
I owe you more than life, and I will cherish 
you always." 

Ali rejoiced at this promise of the King, 
and was simple enough to believe him 

Meanwhile, Slimane was filled with rage at 
the turn of events, nor was it long before he 
had invented a new perfidious plot against 
the unfortunate Ali. He went to the King 
and said, " Sire, thanks to my wise counsels 
you possess a rare and beautiful bird. But 
how much more beautiful is the Princess 
Halyme, of whose solitude it was the only 
charm. The Princess Halyme is as lovely 
as the day, and I am surprised that your 
Majesty has not been thought worthy to 
contemplate her dazzling beauty. Ali knows 
where to find her. If he loves your Majesty, 
as he pretends, he will conduct this peerless 
Princess to the most powerful of Kings." 

When the King informed Ali of what had 
taken place, and intimated his Royal pleasure 
that the Princess Halyme should be forth- 
with brought to his capital, Ali replied boldly, 
" Sire, it shall be done," for he had already 
consulted his patron, Abd-el-Kader. 

" I can inform your Majesty," he added, 
" that the Princess Halyme is even more 
beautiful than Slimane has told your Majesty. 
In fact, her loveliness surpasses all that man 
can imagine. I will depart at once, Sire, and 
I promise to conduct her hither. But an 
enchanter holds her prisoner in an island far 
away in the great sea which surrounds the 
world. In order that I may approach it I 
must be provided with a ship made of gold 
and pure silver, constructed from the trea- 
sures in the vaults of your Grand Vizier." 




And thus was the crafty Slimane adroitly 
caught in his own trap. The Grand Vizier 
knew too well the character of the King to 
doubt that he would be compelled to accede 
to All's demands. He therefore thought it 
wiser not to risk the loss of his head by a 
refusal. Thus, making a virtue of necessity, 
he gave to his successful rival the key of his 

In a few weeks the ship of fine gold and 
silver was built. Her keel and sides 
were of solid gold, partly covered by 
a sheet of silver. The masts, oars, 
and rudder were of gold and the 
sails of the finest stiver cloth. 

To construct such a marvellous 
vessel, as may be imagined, made a 
considerable inroad upon the gold 
and silver of the Grand 
Vizier. In short, it was a 
terrible blow to the avaricious 
Slimane, who had been many 
years amassing these trea- 
sures, which he now saw 
disappear by the car-load, to 
be thrown into the crucible. 
He shed tears of rage over 
his loss, but only when no 
one could see him — above 
all, the King; for his first 
duty was to show always 
to his master a smiling 

The magnificent qolden 
ship weighed anchor ; upon 
the vast sea which surrounds 
the w p orld she sailed away 
towards the enchanted island, 
where a powerful spell held 
prisoner the adorable Princess 
Halyme, weeping over the 
loss of her marvel lous bird. 
At the wheel stood the magi- 
cian Abd - el - Kader, whilst 
AH, leaning over the taffrail, 
scanned the horizon. These 
two alone constituted the 
entire crew and passengers 
of the golden ship armoured 
with silver. During an entire 
moon they sailed upon the 
ocean, when at last they per- 
ceived from afar a rock rising 
from the sea, It was the 
mysterious prison where the 
Princess, beautiful as the 
dawn, was held in bondage. 
At the end of the bay rose 
the palace ; upon the terrace 

dreamed the Princess Halyme, robed in 
snowy veils of white, 

As soon as she saw the ship of gold 
anchored in the bay she was seized with 
curiosity to examine closely this new wonder 
She even desired to handle the oars, touch 
the sails, and contemplate her fair visage 
mirrored in the golden masts. Thus she 
accepted the hand which Alt held out to her, 
and sprang lightly upon the deck- Instantly 

by Google 


Original from 



the ship was in motion, sprang like a living 
thing through the waves, and in less time 
than it takes to write it the shores of the 
island were already so far that the eye could 
scarcely distinguish the bare outlines. 

But Halyme had not called for help, 
Halyme had not wept with fear. She con- 
tented herself with clasping more strongly 
the hand of AH. And thus was the beautiful 
Princess rescued from her prison. 

One may easily imagine the feelings of the 
King when this enchanted pearl was pre- 
sented to him. A gem whose pure lustre, 
unseen by all, had only shone upon a desert 
island in the midst of the vast ocean which 
surrounds the world. Ali was magnificently 
rewarded. Amongst other splendid presents 
he received the gift of the ship with which 
he had carried off the Princess — the ship of 
gold covered with silver armour. 

Few pitied the avaricious Slimane, who was 
deprived of all his wealth and found himself 
reduced to miserable penury, whilst his rival, 
enriched by the spoils bestowed upon him 
by the King, flourished in opulence. 

Of course, the King immediately fell 
violently in love with the Princess Halyme. 
"The time is now come," said he, "when 
you must choose between Ali and me. If 
you will consent to be my wife I will give 
you half of all my wealth, and you shall be 
Queen of the Richanians." 

" Sire," replied the Princess Halyme, " I 
pve your Majesty thanks. But before I 
accept your offer you must cause a funeral 
pile to be erected, surrounded on all sides by 
a deep ditch. Then your Majesty and Ali 
must each mount his horse, and to him who 
succeeds in overcoming this obstacle my 
hand will be given." 

The King accepted the test, so overwhelm- 
ing was his love for the Princess. Still, he 
was by no means easy in his mind concerning 
the result. 

" Fear nothing, Sire," whispered the crafty 
Sliraane to the King. " It is Ali who must 
make the first attempt to ride across the 
ditch and the funeral pile. Leave it to me, 
your Majesty ; I will cause to be built a pyre 
so enormous, and there shall be dug a ditch 
so wide, that Ali will certainly be killed in 
the attempt to ride over them." 

This cunning idea of the artful Slimane 
pleased the King enormously. 

It was a memorable day, and one which 
became a record in the history of the 
Richanians. The people, hastening to Richa 
from every part of the kingdom, were ranged 
in a circle in the vast plain. They gathered, 

VoL xxiu-16 


too, upon the mountains and the hills which 
surrounded the city. It was like a gigantic 
circus, into which thronged a bustling, noisy 
crowd, waiting with anxiety for a spectacle 
without parallel. In the centre was raised 
a colossal pyre, which certainly measured 
several hundred feet in every direction. 
Around this was a yawning ditch, iooft. 
wide and deep as an abyss. Already the fire 
which had been communicated to the base 
of the enormous funeral pile caused a column 
of flame and smoke to rise into the clouds. 
The fateful moment came when the signal 
was about to be given. 

Slimane, in imagination, already tasted 
the sweets of vengeance. 

The King laughed silently in his braided 

As for poor Ali, he was disconsolate. 
"This is the time," he sighed, "when I 
stand most in need of the help of Abd-el- 
Kader. But what could even he do against 
such an extreme danger as this ? I fear, alas, 
it is the end of all my hopes ! I must 
resign myself to perish — to die is nothing in 
itself; to me the most terrible trial is the loss 
of my beautiful Princess." 

" Do not distress yourself," said a voice 
which Ali recognised with joy. "Turn your 
gaze towards the East, and profit by the 
assistance which your friend sends you." 

Ali turned as directed by Abd-el-Kader, 
and saw a horse ready caparisoned; but 
what a horse ! Could the name of that noble 
animal be given to the miserable-looking beast 
which met Ali's astonished eyes, and whose 
ribs seemed about to break through its trans- 
parent skin ? And what trappings for such 
an occasion ! Its bridle consisted of ropes 
of straw, the reins were pieces of string, 
and the saddle was roughly made of boards 
loosely tacked together and badly nailed, 
whilst from the pommel hung a pair of long 
spurs, also of wood. Notwithstanding the 
unpromising aspect of this singular steed 
Ali unhesitatingly mounted upon his back, 
seized the reins of string, put on the wooden 
spurs, and in this ridiculous guise rejoined 
the Royal retinue. As soon as he appeared 
thus mounted a roar of laughter burst from 
the crowd. This was followed by groans and 
hisses, a thousand times repeated by the sur- 
rounding echoes. The few who were disposed 
in his favour thought Ali had suddenly been 
bereft of his senses. If he intended, thought 
they, to face the danger nobly, why had he not 
selected a thoroughbred charger from the 
stables of the King, instead of straddling 
such a sorry steed as this ? 




Ali heard nothing of these murmurs. He 
rode boldly towards the funeral pile, whir h 
seemed like a mosque on fire. On his way 
he passed before the Princess Halyme, and 
as he saluted her he gave her a look full 
of love. Then t leaning forward upon his 
grotesque saddle of wood, he plunged his 
spurs into the side of his Rosinante, which 
instantly bounded into the air, disappeared 
for a second in the flames, and was seen 
to alight on the other side of the ditch, 
galloping forward with strength and grace. 

ness and suppleness that it might be 
imagined they had wings. Let them be 
brought hither ! I ordain that all the great 
lords of the Court and all the officers of the 
army shall mount and follow me ! w 

; gavk. hibk a look fue.l of love* 

Then on all sides was heard a shout of 
enthusiasm, Ali presently returned to the 
place where the Princess Halyme viewed this 
tournament of a new description, and the 
looks the lovers exchanged were significant 
of the sentiment which filled their hearts. 

At sight of this the King was very much 
enraged, and he gave way to a fit of passion, 
" You fools I" he exclaimed ; <( you think that 
a great exploit, no doubt ! Do you not 
suppose that your King is able to perform so 
trifling a feat? I will show you that it is 
merely child's play, I have in my stables 
horses of the purest blood ; many of them 
can outstrip the wind in speed, and others in 
leaping over obstacles have so much light- 

It was soon seen that the King was in a 
high state of exaltation, and, indeed, labour- 
ing under an attack of insanity, but none 
dared disobey him, A groom led forward 
the most high spirited steed from the Royal 
stables, a Syrian horse, richly caparisoned as 
on days of great ceremony. The King 
leaped into the saddle- To be impartial, it 
must be admitted that he was a brilliant 
horseman. With great ease he restrained 
the noble animal trembling with ardour and 
pawing the ground with impatience. Then 
he clapped spurs to his sides and rode to the 
place where the Princess Halyme was seated , 
where he curbed with a hand of steel his 
impetuous steed, Then suddenly he agnin 
spurred his horse to the quick, who bounded 
forward like an arrow, 

The throng of courtiers followed their 
King, the frightened hu.^es rushed after their 




leader in a fantastic gallop, and the entire 
cavalcade appeared sehed with frenzy. At 
this terrible moment they presented a weird 
spectacle, when, still preceded by the mad- 
dened King, horses and men rushed into the 
fiery gulf. For an instant, a mere second of 
time, the rich embroideries of their costumes, 
(he jewels which ornamented their turbans, 

Minutes and hours passed which seemed 
to the beholders like centuries ; the fire of the 
funeral pile slackened, then ceased altogether ; 
but nothing was seen of the King and his 
brilliant Court— they had all perished in the 

When the crowd saw that all was over, 
from the surrounding hills arose a cry from 
thousands of throats : — 
" Long live our King Ali ! " 


and the gems which decorated the trappings 
of their horses flashed in the light of the fire 
from the funeral pile> then all were engulfed 
in the gig^intic brazier, millions of sparks 
flew into the air and were wafted away by the 
wind, then a cloud of ashes was raised above 
the pyre and ftrll in a rain of cinders, and 
once again the flames sprang up more 
vigorously than before. 

Thus acclaimed, Ali advanced towards the 
Princess Halyme, and knelt upon one knee 
before her; with a radiant smile, Halyme 
raised her lover from the ground and 
embraced him in the presence of the multi- 

And thus it was that Prince Ali wedded 
the Princess Halyme, and became King of 
the Richanians. 



Original from 


[ We shall be giad to receive Contributions to this M£tion y and to pay for surfi as are accepted.] 


" I hope inclosed may find a place amongst your 
interesting Curios. The dogs are represented hanging 
on lo a piece of rope by their teeth N a feat which they 
seem to relish much, and which affords great amuse- 
ment to spectators." — -Mr, E, G, Wheal, 9, Torring- 
ton Square, W.C. 


"Coming through the Suez Canal on the P. & 0. 
R, M.S. Victoria^ we had, as usual , several dolphins 
swimming along in front, close under the bows of the 
ship — with what * porpoise ' it is hard 10 say, unless 
the affrighted smaller fish are driven along in front of 
the big liner, and thus fall an easy prey. One big 
fellow piloted us for several miles, and leaning over 
the bows I snapped him as he came up to breathe. 

You will notice the blow-hole in the back of his 
head/* — Mr. John W. (jlenny, The Far East Studio, 
I, Crouch Hill Road, N, 

*' This picture of apparently seven charming young 
ladies is really made up of three persons. How 
this attractive result was arrived at is I he secret of 
the photographer, who, with the assistance of his 
colleague the sun, has [performed a bewildering 
trick.*— Mr. M* P. Haskell, Eox 38, Roxhury, 
Boston, Mass. 

■ Copyright by George Ntwnes Ltd., 19^1 




" The photo. I send yon is thai of a puppy taken 
twice on the same plate. The negative was exposed 
a second time by mistake, the puppy in the meantime 
having changed its position."— Mr. \V\ J. Underwood, 
Bd1evue t Sevenoaks* 


We quote here a soldier's letter, written by one at 
ihe front to Mr. John Player. The letter will explain 
the photograph which wc reproduce in connection 
with it : "Ed en burg, February 8th, 1901,— To John 
Player, of Navy Cut fame,— Sirs, — I am forwarding 
you a box of your famous cigarettes, which un- 
doubtedly saved me from a very serious wound, if not 
my life. No doubt you have read of our stand against 
the Boers {I belong to the C in C Bodyguard) when 




11 It is difficult to imagine that this picture 
is that of a man, Uut such is the fact. He 
went to a masquerade ball l<» re present a snow 
man, and by wrapping himself in cotton pro- 
duced the effect shown in the photograph. 
The costume was so warm I hat during the 
evening the wearer fainted in the hall, as il 
was almost impervious to the air. The idea 
was to represent a snow image crudely made, 
and Mr, Samuel Wohlgemuth, of Philadel- 
phia, the wearer, secured first prize for his 
originality.'* — Mr, D, A* Willey, Baltimore, 

«« went into action 150 strong and only fifteen came out without 
4 wound, and where we refused to cease fire when told to. Well, 
your cigarettes were served out to us the day 1 before, and I had 
smoked about six that day (and how acceptable they were ; most 
of us had not had a smoke for some lime), and I had put them 
in my serge pocket ; that day I was hit in six places, but nothing 
serious till I got this one in my groin. It knocked me over, 
and I really thought I was done for t the pain was so severe ; but 
on examination it proved to be only a severe bruise, and am now 
fit for duty again, although rather sore. The ballet, as you can 
see, penetrated the box, but did not cut the skin, and I think 
y«iu will agree with me that it was a near thing. "■ — Mr* P. F* 
Carroll, Bristol. Photo, by G. Pendry, Nottingham. 

"J think the in- 
closed photo, may 
amuse some of your 
renders. It is an old 
marmalade tin of 
Crosse and Black- 
well's, which my 
brother bought from a 
snake-charmer (in an 
out-of-the-way Indian 
village) who was using 
it as a torn -torn/' — 
Mr. G, Parkin, Whyer- 
ion House, Black - 
heath, S-E. 




following is a translation beginning at the top and 
working lo the right : * Straights of cash. If you 
don't come, all sorts of ills befall you. Come early. 
Let me know if you can come or not. I say, there's 
a peculiar thing ! You're getting it by degrees. 
Can't you see ? Bay rhum. Get your hair cut ! 
Deuced Uul straights* See you later. Don't you see ? 
Devil take you. You 3re a merry cus ! Good okl 
flipper. Love lo alL Oh ! Tut, tui. R.S.V.P. 
Yours ever, Guy/" — Mr, Charles Craik, Holyiood, 
Upper Bristol Road, West on-super -II a re. 

*' 1 send you the photograph of an ordi- 
nary Transvaal shilling, on which some 
sportive soldier has transformed ex- Presi- 
dent Kruger's head into a capital likeness 
of a stern old Scotsman , by adding a Scotch 
tartan cap or Tam-o'-shanter, and adorning 
his coat with the stripes of the tartan, the 
strokes being made with a pen -knife or other 
sharp instrument. By its side has been 
placed an ordinary Kruger shilling, for 
comparison, and Ihe photo, represents the 
coins about twice I he size of the originals, 
for clearness' sake."— The coin was sent 
from South Africa by Mr. Harry Alt man, 
of the Aliwal North Town Guard, and the 
photo, taken by Mr. David fsaaks, of 
Ripley House, Elizabeth St reel > Cheelham. 

" I inclose a post -card which was sent to 
me, I think it rather cleverly done, and it 
took me some time before I could understand 
its meaning. The principal message is on 
the big island in the centre of the map— an 
invitation to meet the sender at a cafe, with 
the day. The name of the island below on 
the left-hand side is at once translated, * If 
so* do,' The names of the land at the 
bottom of the map are meant for 4 Same 
time and place as before * and 4 Don't let 
anything hinder you ' respectively, The 

&T&A/TS or 


"This peculiar 
ph otogTa ph 1 1 h e ve ry 
reverse of a * living 
picture,' as may lie 
surmised by the 
reader, represents a 
hunting scene. The 
man on horseback is 
a North American 
Indian, who, with 
his dog, has attacked 
a bear. The w ea* 
pon seen is a spear, 
which was quite 
frequently used by 
Indians in Weslern 
portions of the Uni* 
ted States on their 
hunts. The skele* 
tons of the animals 
were mounted in the 
natural positions, 
and arc life ■ sire. 
The work was di»ne 
by Mr. Frank II, 
Ward, of Roches- 
ter, N.Y,"— Mr, 
IX A. Willey, Bal- 




This huge camera was set up in the pounds of l he 
Smithsonian Institution at Washington, DX., and 
from thence was transferred to Wadeslxiro, North 
Carolina, where it was utilized for taking pictures of the 
sun during the total eclipse of May zSlh, 1900. This 
camera was 1 3 5 ft . long, and provided with a tele- 
scopic lens 20in, in diameter, the enormously el unga- 
tes 1 bellows being made of black cloth. The dry 
plates used were join, square. The lens was placed 
at the near end of the lube> as shown in the picture, 
on the left-hand side. At the farther end, as also 
shown, was a little box -shaped house, made light- 
light and lined with black paper, in which the photo- 
graph er in charge stood while manipulating the plates* 
Because of its great length the camera could not be 
pointed upward toward the sun, the image of which, 
during the eclipse, was reflected by a mirror into the 
end of the black cloth lulw* The photos, were made 
chiefly for the purpose of recording the aspect of the 
solar corona. In the picture the lube is seen covered 
with tents, the object of which is to prevent the over- 
heating of the air inside of the tulie, which might 
interfere with optical results. — Miss Violet Biddle, 
1823, Q. Street, Washington, D*C, 

"This curious-looking object is the famous 'saddle- 
stool/ of Berkswell, Warwickshire, where it is kept 
in the village church as a memenlo of a fox-hunting 
parson of long ago, who was so much at home in the 
saddle—and who felt so awkward out of it— that he 
could not preach comfortably except astride the sem- 
blance of a horse, and who, therefore, had this stool 
made for his use in church. It will l>e seen that it is 
a very good imitation of a saddle. The photographer 
ventured to suggest that the seat might have been 

. , used on account 
of some bodily 
infirmity on the 
part of the rev. 
gentleman who 
had it made ; but 
the charitable 
supposition was 
met by the 
parish - clerk 
with a strenuous 
assertion that the 
popular view of 
the * saddle 
stool ' is the cor- 
rect one. The 
clerk's prede- 
cessor used t o de- 
clare the same, 
and the story 
appears to be 

authentic* If so, this was 'riding a hobby' with a 
vengeance. As it was too dark in the vestry the stool 
was carried out into the churchyard to be photo- 
graphed*"— Mr. C. S. Sargisson, Glenlhorn, Shan "' 
sham Hill, Moseley, Birmingham. 

"I send you a pur trail of President McKinley 
made by Mr. T. \V. Grain, exclusively from cancelled 
stamps of hut two hues, red and green. There are 
1,005 Stamps in the picture, and of this number no 
fewer than 632 were employed to make the face and 


hair* The hair lines are the marks commonly made 
in cancel the stamps on passing through the poet. 
There are 352 stamps in the c^at alone, which contain 
that number of heads of Washington, whilst the face 
Is full of minute eyes- Twenty -one green stamps 
provide the President with a suitable scarf for the 
neck, and all are arranged with the most minute 
attention to the smallest details. Even the name 
* William McKinley' beneath the portrait is composed 
of minute pieces of postage label Mr. McKinley has 
expressed his entire approval of the portrait, which 
took eighteen days <4 very careful work to complete," 
—The Rector, Rani. ti. Oswald, Wragby. 




"I send you a photo, of 'Noire Dame du Puy * 
(France)- The statue, which is nearly 40ft. high, is 
wholly made of I he cannons taken at SebaslopoL Its 
pedestal is 35ft. high, and the whole thing is so great 
In its proportions that it is said the smallest finger of 
the child Jesus could contain a chikL When this 
photo, was taken by Mr. (iruas his wife was 
ascending the statue by an inner staircase, and just 
as the plate was about 10 l>e exposed Mrs. Gruas thrust 
her head out of the statue through a small window 
just below the Blessed Virgin's neck, with the result 
shown on this picture. Her head looks much more like 
a cameo- brooch than a human head, and shows well the 
proportions of the statue*' 5 — A contributor of 4, Place 
du Poids Public, Limoges, Haute Vienne, France. 

( * I beg (o inclose a puzzle address for your Curiosity 
page. Unlike the others which have appeared, this 
must be read from four different sides before you 
know all that is in iL Side No. 1 reads, * George 
Newnes, Ld. p Proprietors of* j No. 3, 'TheStraku 
Magazine ' ; No. 3, * Southampton St., Strand, 
W.C J ; and No. 4, 'Sent by Hugh G + Kerr, New 
Dittos,' To read side No. 3, read from corner 

marked x to corner No 4, and to read side No, 4 
from comer No- 3 to opposite corner. The whole 
communication reads i 'George Newnes, Ld., pro- 
prietors of The Strand Magazine, Southampton 
SL, Strand, W.C Sent by Hugh G, Kerr, New- 
mi Ins, 1 The page must l>e held on a level with the 
eyes, so as to foreshorten the letters." — Mr. Hugh 
G. Kerr, 46, Brown Street, Newmilns* 

" When in England just two years ago I heard that 
the house inhabited by Charles Darwin during his 
latter years had been sold* I made a pilgrimage to 
the place, at Down> near Karn borough, Kent* The 
house was indeed upside-down, being in the hands of 
the British workman. I look photographs of the 
house, and the one I now inclose. It is a heap of 
Darwin's chemical apparatus, which had been removed 
from his 1ul>uraiory and thrown lo the ground before 
being carted away. This strange collection becomes 
something more than mere jars and lamj*s when we 
consider what was evolved from them at I he great 
thinkers hands." — Mr* Norman Allislon, 43, East 
Twenty- First Street, New York. 


(""rw^nL'' Original from 


{S& page 1 28. ) 

f^ru"*nL" fc Original from 


The Strand Magazine. 

VoL aorii. 

AUGUST, 1901. 

No. 128. 

The Hound of the Baskervilles. 






who was usually very late in 
the mornings, save upon those 
not infrequent occasions when 
he was up all night, was seated 
at the breakfast table. I stood 
upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick 
which our visitor had left behind him the night 
before. It was a fine, thick piece of wood, 
bulbous-headed, of the sort which is known 
as a " Penang lawyer." Just under the head 
was a broad silver band, nearly an inch 
across. "To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., 
from his friends of the C.C.H.," was engraved 
upon it, with the date " 1884." It was just 
such a stick as the old-fashioned family 
practitioner used to carry-^dignified, solid, 
and reassuring. 
" Well, Watson, what do you make of it ? " 
Holmes was sitting with his back to me, 
and I had given him no sign of my occupa- 

" How did you know what I was doing ? 
I believe you have eyes in the back of your 

"I have, at least, a well-polished silver- 
plated coffee-pot in front of me," said he. 
'' But, tell me, Watson, what do you make of 
our visitor's stick? Since we have been so 
unfortunate as to miss him and have no 
notion of his errand, this accidental souvenir 
becomes of importance. Let me hear you 
reconstruct the man by an examination of it." 
" I think," said I, following as far as I could 
the methods of my companion, " that Dr. 
Mortimer is a successful elderly medical man, 

*This story owes it* inception to my friend, Mr. Fletcher 
fcefeason who bas helped me both in the general plot and in 
*e local details.— A. C. D. 

by L^OOgle 

well-esteemed, since those who know him 
give him this mark of their appreciation." 

" Good ! " said Holmes. " Excellent ! " 

" I think also that the probability is in 
favour of his being a country practitioner 
who does a great deal of his visiting on foot." 

" Why so?" 

"Because this stick, though originally a 
very handsome one, has been so knocked 
about that I can hardly imagine a town 
practitioner carrying it. Thfe thick iron 
ferrule is worn down, so it is evident that he 
has done a great amount of walking with it." 

" Perfectly sound ! " said Holmes. 

"And then again, there is the 'friends of 
the C.C.H.' I should guess that to be the 
Something Hunt, the local hunt to whose 
members he has possibly given some surgical 
assistance, and which has made him a small 
presentation in return." 

" Really, Watson, you excel yourself," said 
Holmes, pushing back his chair and lighting 
a cigarette. ",I am bound to say that in all 
the accounts which you have been so good 
as to give of my own small achievements you 
have habitually underrated your own abilities. 
It may be that you are not yourself luminous, 
but you are a conductor of light. Some 
people without possessing genius have a 
remarkable power of stimulating it I con- 
fess, my dear fellow, that I am very much in 
your debt." 

He had never said as much before, and I 
must admit that his words gave me keen 
pleasure, for I had often been piqued by his 
indifference to my admiration and to the 
attempts which I had made to give publicity 
to his methods. I was proud too to think 
that I had so far mastered his system as to 
apply it in a way which earned his approval. 
He now took the stick from my hands 
Original from 



and examined it For a few minutes with his 
naked eyes. Then with an expression of 
interest ho laid down his cigarette and, carry- 
ing the cane to the window, he looked over 
it again with a convex lens. 

11 Interesting, though elementary, 11 said he, 
as he returned to his favourite corner of the 
settee. u There are certainly one or two 
indications upon the stick, 
It gives us the basis for 
several deductions." 

" Has anything escaped 
me?" I asked, with some 
self-importance. "I trust 
that there is nothing of 
consequence which I have 
overlooked ? " 

" I am afraid, my dear 
Watson, that most of your 
conclusions were erro- 
neous. When I said that 
you stimulated me I meant, 
to be frank^ that in noting 
your fallacies I was occa- 
sionally guided towards the 
truth. Not that you are 
entirely wrong in this in- 
stance. The man is cer- 
tainly a country practi- 
tioner. And he walks a 
good deal." 

" Then I was right/' 

" To that extent." 

"But that was all." 

" No, no, my dear Wat- 
son, not all — by no means 
alL I would suggest, for 
example, that a presenta- 
tion to a doctor is more 
likely to come from an 
hospital than from a 
hunt, and that when 
the initials 'CC are 
placed before iliat hospital 
the words l Charing 
Cross* very naturally suggest themselves." 

" You may be right." 

"The probability lies in that direction. 
And if we take this as a working hypothesis 
we have a fresh basis from which to start oar 
construction of this unknown visitor." 

11 Well, then, supposing that ( C.C.H.* does 
stand for 'Charing Cross Hospital/ what 
further inferences may we draw? " 

"Do none suggest themselves? You 
know my methods. Apply them ! " 

"I can only think of the obvious conclu- 
sion that the man has practised in town 
before going to the country," 


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11 1 think that we might venture a little 
farther than this. Look at it in this 
light, On what occasion would it be 
most probable that such a presentation 
would be made? When would his friends 
unite to give him a pledge of their goodwill? 
Obviously at the moment when Dr. Mortimer 
withdrew from the service of the hospital in 
order to start in practice 
for himself, We know 
there has been a presenta- 
tion. W e bel i e ve th er e h as 
been a change from a town 
hospital to a country prac- 
tice. Is it, then, stretching 
our inference too far to say 
that the presentation was 
on the occasion of the 
change ? ,J 

"It certainly seems 

" Now, you will observe 
that he could not have been 
on the sh[fo( the hospital, 
since only a man well- 
established in a London 
practice could hold such a 
position, and such a one 
would not drift into the 
country. What was he, 
then ? If be was in the hos- 
pital and yet not on ths 
staff he could only have 
been a house-surgeon or a 
house - physician — little 
more than a senior student. 
And he left five years ago 
— the date is on the stick. 
So your grave, middle-aged 
family practitioner vanishes 
into thin air, my dear A Vat- 
son, and there emerges a 
young fellow under thirty, 
amiable, unambitious, 
absent-minded, and the 
possessor of a favourite dog, which I should 
describe roughly as being larger than a terrier 
and smaller than a mastiff! M 

I laughed incredulously as Sherlock 
Holmes leaned back in his settee and bkw 
little wavering rings of smoke up to the 

u As to the latter part, I have no means 
of checking you," said I, ** but at Itast 
it is not difficult to find out a few par- 
ticulars about the man's age and profes- 
sional career." From my small medical 
shelf I took down the Medical Directory and 
turned up the name. There were several 
Original from 






Mortimers, but only one who could be our 
visitor. I read his record aloud* 

" Mortimer, James, M.R.C.S., 1882, 
Grimpen, Oartmoor, Devon. House surgeon, 
from 1SS2 to 1884, at Charing Cross 
Hospital. Winner of the Jackson prize for 
Comparative Pathology, with essay entitled 
'Is Disease a Reversion?' Corresponding 
member of the Swedish Pathological Society. 
Author of ' Some Freaks of Atavism J 
{Lancet, 1882). ' Do We Progress ? ? {Journal 
of I*sychof&gyi March, 1883). Medical 
Officer for the parishes of Grimpen, 
Thorsley, and High Barrow." 

"No mention of that local hunt, Watson/' 
said Holmes, with a mischievous smile, "but 
a country doctor, as you very astutely observed. 
I think that I am fairly justified in my infer- 
ences. As to the adjectives, I said, if I 
remember right, amiable, unambitious, and 
absent-minded. It is tny experience that it is 
only an amiable man in this world who 
receives testimonials, only 
an unambitious one who 
abandons a London career 
for the country, and only 
an absent-minded one who 
leaves his stick and not his 
visiting-card after waiting 
an hour in your room." 
"And the dog?" 
"Has been in the habit 
of carrying this stick behind 
his master. Being a heavy 

stick the dog has held it 

tightly by the middle, and 

the marks of his teeth are 

very plainly visible. The 

dog's jaw, as shown in the 

Space between these marks, 

k too broad in my opinion 

for a terrier and not broad 

enough for a mastiff. It may 

have been— yes, by Jove, it 

i*a curly-haired spaniel." 
He had risen and paced 

the room as he spoke. Now 

he halted in the recess of 

the window- There was 

such a ring of conviction in 

his voice that I glanced up 

of its owner. Don't move, I beg you, Watson. 
He is a professional brother of yours, and your 
presence may be of assistance to me. Now is 
the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when 
you hear a step upon the stair which is walking 
into your life, and you know not whether for 
good or ill. What does Dr. James Mortimer, 
the man of science, ask of Sherlock Holmes, 
the specialist in crime ? Come in ! " 

The appearance of our visitor was a surprise 
tome, since I had expected a typical country 
practitioner. He was a very tall, thin man, 
with a long nose like a beak, which jutted out 
between two keen, grey eyes, set closely 
together and sparkling brightly from behind a 
pair of gold-rimmed glasses. He was clad in 
a professional but rather slovenly fashion, for 
his frock-coat was dingy and his trousers 
frayed. Though young, his long back was 
already bowed, and he walked with a forward 
thrust of his head and a general air of peering 
benevolence. As he entered his eyes fell upon 

in surprise. 
" My dear 

fellow, how 
you possibly be so 
sure of that ? M . 

"For the very simple 
reason that I see the dog 
himself on our very door- 
step, and there is the ring 


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'his evks fell i' ton the stick ih hulues's ha nix" 

Original from 



the stick in Holmes's hand, and he ran 
towards it with an exclamation of joy. " I am 
so very glad," said he. " I was not sure 
whether 1 had left it here or in the Shipping 
Office. I would not lose that stick for the 

11 A presentation, I see," said Holmes, 

11 Yes, sir." 

" From Charing Cross Hospital ? " 

" From one or two friends there on the 
occasion of my marriage." 

" Dear, dear, that's bad ! " said Holmes, 
shaking his head. 

Dr. Mortimer blinked through his glasses 
in mild astonishment. 

"Why was it bad?" 

" Only that you have disarranged our little 
deductions. Your marriage, you say ? " 

"Yes, sir. I married, and so left the 
hospital, and with it all hopes of a consulting 
practice. It was necessary to make a home 
of my own." 

" Come, come, we are not so far wrong 
after all," said Holmes. "And now, Dr. 
James Mortimer " 

" Mister, sir, Mister— a humble M.R.CS." 

" And a man of precise mind, evidently." 

" A dabbler in science, Mr. Holmes, a 
picker up of shells on the shores of the 
great unknown ocean. I presume that it is 
Mr. Sherlock Holmes whom I am addressing 
and not " 

" No, this is my friend Dr. Watson." 

"Glad to meet you, sir. I have heard 
your name mentioned in connection with that 
of your friend. You interest me very much, 
Mr. Holmes. I had hardly expected so 
dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked 
supra-orbital development. Would you have 
any objection to my running my finger along 
your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull, 
sir, until the original is available, would be 
an ornament to any anthropological museum. 
It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I 
confess that I covet your skull." 

Sherlock Holmes waved our strange visitor 
into a chair. " You are an enthusiast in your 
line of thought, I perceive, sir, as I am in 
mine," said he. " I observe from your fore- 
finger that you make your own cigarettes. 
Have no hesitation in lighting one." 

The man drew out paper and tobacco and 
twirled the one up in the other with surpris- 
ing dexterity. He had long, quivering fingers 
as agile and restless as the antennae of an 

Holmes was silent, but his little darting 
glances showed me the interest which he 
took in our curious companion. 

" I presume, sir," said he at last, " that it 
was not merely for the purpose of examining 
my skull that you have done me the honour 
to call here last night and again to-day ? " 

" No, sir, no ; though I am happy to have 
had the opportunity of doing that as well. I 
came to you, Mr. Holmes, because I recog- 
nise that I am myself an unpractical man, 
and because I am suddenly confronted with 
a most serious and extraordinary problem. 
Recognising, as I do, that you are the second 
highest expert in Europe " 

" Indeed, sir ! May I inquire who has the 
honour to be the first?" asked Holmes, with 
some asperity. 

" To the man of precisely scientific mind 
the work of Monsieur Bertillon must always 
appeal strongly." 

"Then had you not better consult him?" 

" I said, sir, to the precisely scientific 
mind. But as a practical man of affairs it is 
acknowledged that you stand alone. I trust, 
sir, that I have not inadvertently " 

"Just a little," said Holmes. "I think, 
Dr. Mortimer, you would do wisely if without 
more ado you would kindly tell me plainly 
what the exact nature of the problem is in 
which you demand my assistance." 

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" I have in my pocket a manuscript," said 
Dr. James Mortimer. 

" I observed it as you entered the room," 
said Holmes. 

" It is an old manuscript." 

" Early eighteenth century, unless it is a 

" How can you say that, sir? " 

" You have presented an inch or two of it 
to my examination all the time that you have 
been talking. It would be a poor expert who 
could not give the date of a document within 
a decade or so. You may possibly have read 
my little monograph upon the subject. I put 
that at 1730." 

" The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer 
drew it from his breast-pocket. " This family 
paper was committed to my care by Sir 
Charles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic 
death some three months ago created so 
much excitement in Devonshire. I may say 
that I was his personal friend as well as his 
medical attendant. He was a strong-minded 
man, sir, shrewd, practical, and as unimagi- 
native as I am myself. Yet he took this 
document very seriously, and his mind was 
prepared for just such an end as did even- 
tually overtake him." 

Original from 



Holmes stretched out his hand for the 
manuscript and flattened it upon his knee. 

" You will observe, Watson, the alternative 
use of the long s and the short It is one 
of several indications which enabled me to 
fis the date." 

I looked over his shoulder at the yellow 
paper and the faded script. At the head 
was written : " Baskerville Hall/' and below, in 
laige, scrawling figures: "1742*" 

his finger-tips together, and closed his eyes, 
with an air of resignation, Dr, Mortimer 
turned the manuscript to the light and read 
in a high, crackling voice the following 
curious, old-world narrative : — - 

14 Of the origin of the Hound of the 
Baskervilles there have been many state- 
ments, yet as I come in a direct line from 
Hugo Baskerville, and as I had the story 
from my father, who also had it from his, 


"It appears to be a statement of some 

14 Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend 
irhich runs in the Baskerville family," 

u But I understand that it is something 
more modem and practical upon which you 
wish to consult me?" 

"Most modern. A most practical press- 
ing matter, which must be decided within 
twenty -four hours. But the manuscript is 
short and is intimately connected with the 
affair, With your permission 1 will read it 

to you. n 

Holmes leaned back in his chair, placed 




I have set it down with all belief that it oc- 
curred even as is here set forth. And I would 
have you believe, my sons, that the same 
Justice which punishes sin may also most 
graciously forgive it 3 and that no ban is so 
heavy hut that by prayer and repentance it 
may be removed. Learn then from this 
story not to fear the fruits of the past, but 
rather to be circumspect in the future, that 
those foul passions whereby our family has 
suffered so grievously may not again be 
loosed to our undoing, 

*' Know then that in the time of the Great 
Rebellion (the history of which by the learned 
Original from 




Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commend 
to your attention) this Manor of Baskerville 
was held by Hugo of that name, nor can it 
be gainsaid that he was a most wild, pro- 
fane, and godless man. This, in truth, his 
neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that 
saints have never flourished in those parts, 
but there was in him a certain wanton and 
cruel humour which made his name a by- 
word through the West. It chanced that 
this Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark 
a passion may be known under so bright a 
name) the daughter of a yeoman who held 
lands near the Baskerville estate. But the 
young maiden, being discreet and of good 
repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared 
his evil name. So it came to pass that one 
Michaelmas this Hugo, with five or six of his 
idle and wicked companions, stole down 
upon the farm and carried off the maiden, 
her father and brothers being from home, as 
he well knew. When they had brought her 
to the Hall the maiden was placed in an 
upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends 
sat down to a long carouse, as was their 
nightly custom. Now, the poor lass upstairs 
was like to have her wits turned at the sing- 
ing and shouting and terrible oaths which 
came up to her from below, for they say that 
the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when 
he was in wine, were such as might blast the 
man who said them. At last in the stress of 
her fear she did that which might have 
daunted the bravest or most active man, for 
by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered 
(and still covers) the south wall she came 
down from under the eaves, and so home- 
ward across the moor, there being three 
leagues betwixt the Hall and her father's farm. 
" It chanced that some little time later 
Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink 
— with other worse things, perchance — to his 
captive, and so found the cage empty and the 
bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, he 
became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing 
down the stairs into the dining-hall, he 
sprang upon the great table, flagons and 
trenchers flying before him, and he cried 
aloud before all the company that he would 
that very night render his body and soul to 
the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake 
the wench. And while the revellers stood 
aghast at the fury of the man, one more 
wicked or, it may be, more drunken than 
the rest, cried out that they should put the 
hounds upon her. Whereat Hugo ran from 
the house, crying to his grooms that they 
should saddle his mare and unkennel the 
pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of 


the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so 
off full cry in the moonlight over the moor. 

" Now, for some space the revellers stood 
agape, unable to understand all that had 
been done in such haste. But anon their 
bemused wits awoke to the nature of the 
deed which was like to be done upon the 
moorlands. Everything was now in an up- 
roar, some calling for their pistols, some for 
their horses, and some for another flask of 
wine. But at length some sense came back 
to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, 
thirteen in number, took horse and started in 
pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, 
and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that 
course which the maid must needs have taken 
if she were to reach her own home. 

cl They had gone a mile or two when they 
passed one of the night shepherds upon the 
moorlands, and they cried to him to know if 
he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the 
story goes, was so crazed with fear that he 
could scarce speak, but at last he said that 
he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, 
with the hounds upon her track. ' But I 
have seen more than that/ said he, 'for 
Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black 
mare, and there ran mute behind him such a 
hound of hell as God forbid should ever be 
at my heels.' So the drunken squires 
cursed the shepherd and rode onwards. But 
soon their skins turned cold, for there came 
a galloping across the moor, and the black 
mare, dabbled with white froth, went past 
with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then 
the revellers rode close together, for a great 
fear was on them, but they still followed over 
the moor, though each, had he been alone, 
would have been right glad to have turned 
his horse's head. Riding slowly in this 
fashion they came at last upon the hounds. 
These, though known for their valour and 
their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at 
the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call 
it, upon the moor, some slinking away and 
some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, 
gazing down the narrow valley before them. 

" The company had come to a halt, more 
sober men, as you may guess, than when 
they started. The most of them would by 
no means advance, but three of them, the 
boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode 
forward down the goyal. Now, it opened 
into a broad space in which stood two of 
those great stones, still to be seen there, 
which were set by certain forgotten peoples 
in the days of old. The moon was shining 
bright upon the clearing, and there in the 
centre lay the unhappy maid where she had 
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fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it 
was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it 
that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying her, which raised the hair upon the 
heads of these three dare-devil royslerers, 
but it was that, standing over Hugo, and 
plucking at his throat, there stood a foul 
thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a 
: .11:1c], vu larger than any hound that ever 
mortal eye has rested upon. And even as 
they looked the thing tore the throat out of 
Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its 
blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, 
the three shrieked with fear and rode for 
rkar life* still screaming, across the moor. 
One, it is said, died that very night of what 
he had seen, and the other twain were but 
broken men for the rest of their days, 

(t Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming 
of the hound which is said to have plagued 
the family so sorely ever since. If I have 
5*t it down it is because that which is clearly 
known hath less terror than that which is but 
hinted at and" guessed. Nor can it be denied 

Vol. jtilL— 17- 

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that many of the family have 
been unhappy in their deaths, 
which have been sudden, 
bloody, and mysterious. Yet 
may we shelter ourselves in the 
infinite goodness of Providence, 
which would not for ever punish 
the innocent beyond that third 
or fourth generation which is 
threatened in Holy Writ. To 
that Providence, my sons, I 
hereby commend you, and I 
counsel you by way of caution 
to forbear from crossing the 
moor in those dark hours when 
the powers of evil are exalted. 

"[This from Hugo Basker- 
ville to his sons Rodger and 
John, with instructions that they 
say nothing thereof to their 
sister Elizabeth.]" 

When Dr. Mortimer had 
finished reading this .singular 
narrative he pushed his spec- 
tacles up on his forehead and 
stared across at Mr, Sherlock 
Holmes* The latter yawned 
and tossed the end of his 
cigarette into the fire, 
"Well? 1 ' said he. 
" Do you not find it interest- 

"To a collector of fairy tales." 
Dr. Mortimer drew a folded 
newspaper out of his pocket. 
" Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you 
something a little more recent This is the 
Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this 
year. It is a short account of the facts 
elicited at the death of Sir Charles Basker- 
ville which occurred a few days before that 

My friend leaned a little forward and his 
expression became intent- Our visitor re- 
adjusted his glasses and began : — 

"The recent sudden death of Sir Charles 
Baskerville, whose name has been mentioned 
as the probable Liberal candidate for Mid- 
Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom 
over the county. Though Sir Charles had 
resided at Baskerville Hall for a compara- 
tively short period his amiability of character 
and extreme generosity had won the 
affection and respect of all who had been 
brought into contact with him. In these 
days of nouveaux riches it is refreshing to 
find a ease where the scion of an old county 
family which has fallen upon evil days is able 
to make his own fortune and to bring it back 
Original from 

T 3 


with him to restore the fallen grandeur of his 
line. Sir Charles, as is well known, made 
large sums of money in South African 
speculation. More wise than those who go 
on until the wheel turns against them, he 
realized his gains and returned to England 
with them, It is only two years since he 
took up his residence at Bask ervi lie Hall, 
and it Is common talk how large were those 
schemes of reconstruction and improvement 
which have been interrupted by his death, 
Being himself childless, it was his openly- 
expressed desire that the whole 
countryside should, within his own 
lifetime, profit by his good fortune, 
and many will have personal reasons 
for bewailing his untimely end. His 
generous donations to local and 
county charities have been frequently 
chronicled in these columns. 

u The circumstances connected 
with the death of ^ir Charles can- 
not be said to have been entirely 
cleared up by the 
inquest, but at 
least enough has 
been done to dis- 
pose of those 
rumours to which 
local superstition 
has given rise. 
T h e r e is no 
reason whatever 
to suspect foul 
play , or to 
imagine that 
death could be 
from any but 
natural causes. 
Sir Charles was 
a widower, and 
a man who may 
be said to have 
been in some 
ways of an eccen- 
tric habit of 
mind. In spite of 
his considerable 
wealth he was 
simple in his 

personal tasles ? and his indoor servants at 
Baskerville Hall consisted of a married 
couple named Barrymore, the husband acting 
as butler and the wife as housekeeper. Their 
evidence, corroborated by that of several 
friends, tends to show that Sir Charles's 
health has for some time been impaired, and 
points especially to some affection of the 
heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour* 

Digitized by G»< 

breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous 
depression. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend 
and medical attendant of the deceased, has 
given evidence to the same effect- 

i( The facts of the case are simple. Sir 
Charles Baskerville was in the habit every 
night before going to bed of walking down 
the famous Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall. 
The evidence of the Barrymores shows 
that this had been his custom. On the 
4th of May Sir Charles had declared his 
intention of starting next day for London, 

and had ordered 
Barrymore to 
prepare his lug- 
gage. That night 
he went out as 
usual for his 
nocturnal walk, 
in the course of 
which he was in 
the habit of 
smoking a cigar. 
He never re- 
turned. At 
twelve o'clock 
Barrymore, find- 
ing the hall door 
still open, be- 
came alarmed, 
and, lighting a 
lantern, went in 
search of his 
master. The day 
had been wet, 
and Sir Charles's 
footmarks were 
easily traced 
down the Alley, 
Half-way down 
this walk there is 
a gate which 
leads out on to 
the moor. There 
were indications 
that Sir Charles 
had stood for 
some little time 
here. He then 
proceeded down 
the Alley, and it was at the far end of it that 
his body was discovered. One fact which has 
not heen explained is the statement of Barry- 
more that his master's footprints altered their 
character from the time that he passed the 
moor-gate, and that he appeared from thence 
onwards to have been walking upon his toes. 
One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the 
moor at no great distance at the time, but 


uoi>v was dikcl>vekeu. 



he appears by his own confession to have 
been the worse for drink. He declares that 
he heard cries, but is unable to state from 
what direction they came. No signs of 
violence were to be discovered upon Sir 
Charles's person, and though the doctor's 
evidence pointed to an almost incredible 
fecial distortion — so great that Dr. Mortimer 
refused at first to believe that it was indeed 
his friend and patient who lay before him— it 
*as explained that that is a symptom which 
is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death 
from cardiac exhaustion. This explanation 
was borne out by the post-mortem examina- 
tion, which showed long-standing organic 
disease, and the coroner's jury returned a 
verdict in accordance with the medical 
evidence. It is well that this is so, for it 
is obviously of the utmost importance that 
Sir Charles's heir should settle at the Hall 
and continue the good work which has been 
so sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic find- 
ing of the coroner not finally put an end 
to the romantic stories which have been 
whispered in connection with the affair it 
might have been difficult to find a tenant for 
Baskerville Hall. It is understood that the 
next-of-kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be 
still alive, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's 
younger brother. The young man when last 
heard of was in America, and inquiries are 
being instituted with a view to informing him 
of his good fortune." 

Or. Mortimer refolded his paper and 
replaced it in his pocket. 

"Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, 
in connection with the death of Sir Charles 

"I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, 
u for calling my attention to a case which 
cAtainly presents some features of interest. 
I had observed some newspaper comment at 
&e time, but I was exceedingly preoccupied 
by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, 
and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost 
touch with several interesting English cases. 
This article, you say, contains all the public 
44 It does." 

"Then let me have the private ones." He 
leaned back, put his finger-tips together, and 
assumed his most impassive and judicial 

44 In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who 
had begun to show signs of some strong 
emotion, " I am telling that which 1 have not 
confided to anyone. My motive for with- 
holding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a 
*ten of science shrinks from placing himself 

Digitized by dOOQfC 

in the public position of seeming to indorse 
a popular superstition. I had the further 
motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, 
would certainly remain untenanted if anything 
were done to increase its already rather 
grim reputation. For both these reasons I 
thought that I was justified in telling rather 
less than I knew, since no practical good 
could result from it, but with you there is no 
reason why I should not be perfectly frank. 

"The moor is very sparsely inhabited, 
and those who live near each other are 
thrown very much together. For this reason 
I saw a good deal of Sir Charles Baskerville. 
With the exception of Mr. Frankland, of 
lifter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, 
there are no other men of education within 
many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man, 
but the chance of his illness brought us 
together, and a community of interests in 
science kept us so. He had brought back 
much scientific information from South 
Africa, and many a charming evening we 
have spent together discussing the com- 
parative anatomy of the Bushman and the 

"Within the last few months it became 
increasingly plain to me that Sir Charles's 
nervous system was strained to breaking 
point. He had taken this legend which I 
have read you exceedingly to heart — so 
much so that, although he would walk in his 
own grounds, nothing would induce him to 
go out upon the moor at night. Incredible 
as it may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he 
was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate 
overhung his family, and certainly the records 
which he was able to give of his ancestors 
were not encouraging. The idea of some 
ghastly presence constantly haunted him, 
and on more than one occasion he has asked 
me whether I had on my medical journeys 
at night ever seen any strange creature or 
heard the baying of a hound. The latter 
question he put to me several times, and 
always with, a voice which vibrated with 

" I can well remember driving up to his 
house in the evening, some three weeks 
before the fatal event. He chanced to be at 
his hall door. I had descended from my gig 
and was standing in front of him, when I 
saw his eyes fix themselves over my shoulder, 
and stare past me with an expression of the 
most dreadful horror. I whisked round and 
had just time to catch a glimpse of some- 
thing which I took to be a large, black calf 
passing at the head of the drive. So excited 
and alarmed was he that I was compelled to 


J3 2 



go down to the spot where the animal bad 
been and look around for it. It was gone, 
however, and the incident appeared to make 
the worst impression upon his mind, I 
stayed with hiin all the evening, and it was on 
that occasion, to explain the emotion which 
he had shown, that he confided to my keeping 
that narrative which I read to you when first 
I came. 1 mention this small episode because 
it assumes some importance in view of the 
tragedy which followed, but I was convinced 
at the time that the matter was entirely 
trivial and that his excitement had no 

'* It was at my advice that Sir Charles was 
about to go to London, His heart was, I knew, 
affected, and the constant anxiety in which lie 
lived, however chimerical the cause of it might 
be, was evidently having a serious effect upon 

his health. I thought that a 
few months among the dis- 
tractions of town would 
send him back a new man. 
Mr, Staple ton, a mutual 
friend who was much con- 
cerned at his state of 
health, was or the same 
opinion. At the last in- 
stant came this terrible 

"On the night of Sir 
Charles's death Harrymore 
the butler, who made the 
discovery, sent Perkins the 
groom on horse hack to 
me, and as I was sitting 
up late I was able to reach 
Baskerville Hi\\\ within an 
hour of the event, I 
checked and corroborated 
all l lie facts which were 
mentioned at the inquest. 
1 followed the footsteps 
down the Yew Alley, I saw 
the spot at the moor gate 
where he seemed to have 
waited, I remarked the 
change in the shape of the 
prints after that point, I 
noted that there were no 
other footsteps save those 
of Barry more on the soft 
gravel, and finally I care- 
fully examined the body, 
which had not been 
touched until my arrival. 
Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his 
finders dug into the ground, and his features 
convulsed with some strong emotion to such 
an extent that I could hardly have sworn to 
his identity. There was certainly no physical 
injury of any kind. But one false statement 
was made by Barry more at the inquest. He 
said that there were no traces upon the 
ground round the body. He did not observe 
any* But I did — some little distance off, but 
fresh and clear." 
" Footprints? " 
" Footprints/' 
11 A man's or a woman's? " 
l>r Mortimer looked strangely at us for an 
instant, and his voice sank almost to a 
whisper as he answered : — 

" Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of 
a gigantic hound ! " 

(To ht continued.) 

by Google 

Original from 

A School for Animal Painting. 

By Lend re Van der Veer. 

the artist, enjoys the distinc- 
tion of being at the head of 
the only school for animal 
painting in the world Some 
six years or more ago this 

school was founded by Mr. Calderon in most 

primitive surroundings off Baker Street, but 

it so grew in popularity that in recent years 

the town school has found its way during the 

summer months 

into the most de- 
lightful country 


where models 

are of the real 

country - born 

variety and back- 
grounds as rustic 

as you please. 
The spot 

chosen for the 

school is at 

Headly Mill 

Farm, three miles 

from Liphook, 

Hants, and while 

so me few changes 

have been made 

in adapting it to 

the purposes of 

painting, the 

general effect is 

practically what 

it was when 

answering the 

requirements of 

farm life. 
There are the 

quaintest of 

thatched - roofed 

barns and old 

ricks left stand 

ing> and it is in 

this rick-yard that the easels are pitched and 

work done. The place is well shaded by 

trees, and when the day is unusually warm 

there is shade also for the models, though 

the workers prefer always the effect of full 

sunlight. The old farm house itself has 

Digitized by Gi 

UK. W, KkANk 

I A I I • . . 

{• , '■■■„< a Piu\h 

been turned into a most delightful home for 
Mr Calderon, while the students are given 
lodgings amongst the country cottagers there- 

In one of the barns Mr, Calderon has 
fitted himself with a first rate studio* which is 
quite roomy enough to afford background for 
horses, cows, or whatever he may wish to 
pamt. There are two large rooms in fact, 
and last year one was used for dancing 

frequently, but 
this summer is 
seen only as a 
part of Mr, Cal- 
deron's studio. 

In the larger 
barn the stu- 
dents work when 
the days are 
stormy and make 
merry when 
work-time is over 
and the dusk is 
on, Special lights 
have been ar- 
ranged by way of 
great plate -glass 
windows, and 
there are first- 
rate places for 
the models in- 
side also, so that, 
no matter what 
the weather may 
be outside, there 
is perfect com- 
fort within, and 
students find it 
quite pleasing 
sometimes work- 
ing away to the 
music of falling 
rain. The old 
barn proves not 
half bad as a hall room, either, and there 
are plenty of banjos and fiddles that twang 
out jolly tunes o' evenings. 

Cricket is as popular at Headly Mill Farm 
as at Lords, and then; are few days when 
the students do not take a turn at the bat 
Original from 


■ i i- i: ■ fi KKADLY MIL 
. by K f,W*, Miilhurtt. 



IMF.klOR Ol- 1H\ I .1 M(U\V:ISG M k. TA Lhl-.Ki iS s >Tl.TiEO 

J^roju a Ftv.*to. fr,p /*. Co**,. JfidAurif. 

Models are called from nine to one and 
again from four to seven, and between these 
hours there is an absolute freedom to do and 
go as one pleases, and one may be sure that an 
art student knows as well how to enjoy leisure 
as happily as work-time, and the days are 
very bright ones for both master and student 

To those who 
paint a h i mals 
there is a great 
charm in being 
the open, d J apres 
Nature^ for it is 
quite unlike the 
sitting in a town 
workroom work- 
ing at the self- 
same in odd even, 
for there is always 
the question of 
[oral colour crop- 
ping up, and ?t is 
such a comfort to 
have a real true 
country setting to 
work from. No 
artist perhaps 
copies a back- 
ground as it is 
afforded him by 
Nature ; still, he is very awake to her possi- 
bilities, and is always happily pleased to accept 
her suggestions ; and to get a glimpse at this 
little colony of student artists working diligently 
in the old rick-yard, with its rustic settings 
and distant fields, is something of an inspira- 
tion to even the most matter-of-fact mortal. 

Frvm a 1'hvto. bul 


^OO^If nginalfrom 

J , ••'.-. Ml-illiu-MU 





if. Cu?^ Jliiihwtt. 

Among the illustrations of the students at 
work it will he seen that much of the charm 
in in the rustic backgrounds afforded the 
iketchers, and it is interesting to know that 
these very sittings in our illustrations have 
%ured in many Academy pictures of the 
past three years t both from the brush of the 
master and his* pupils. 

There are many delightful spots away from 
the grounds, immediately about the barns, 
where students pitch their easels and big sun 
umbrellas on Saturdays, or between the 
regular hours for work, and do a bit of land- 

scape on their own account It is not 
infrequent for a stroller to come upon some 
dozen or more solitary easels, pitched here 
and there among the daisy fields or beside a 
softly running stream; for Old England affords 
almost everything beautiful by way of trees 
and sky and water for her artists to work 

Models are got from the country folk, and 
there are men experienced in their handling 
to insure the proper conduct of the u critters" ; 
for sometimes when a cow or other animal 
is first requested to n stand still and look 

*fj rAWTING AN BABY-liOlNU MAKU AND CAR1 Qrj Q j fl 3 I f TO ITl L *' CV ** h WhiWfi. 




ciiaklual sTUDy, un tinted rAi l £Rj to show the studkkt how to bec;in. by mk. calueros* 

pleasant" she shows distinct proclivities to tive interest in the progress of the painting 
do as she likes, to the discomfiture and often by making sudden and unexpected jumps 
embarrassment of the painter. into the midst of the paint-boxes and easels. 

A t *J»»"" * n{ h * 


A young foal that was being sketched with This is not an infrequent desire on the part 

its mother, and was allowed to stand at of dogs, either, especially as the work assumes 

liberty beside her, used to show an apprecia- to a pronounced likeness, when they attempt 

f^ rtrt ^| . u Original from 




to pay the artist the tender compliment of 
wishing to " go " for the dog on canvas. 

So it is easily understood that a man must 
always be in attendance, and few models are 
ever done at liberty, for it is seldom that any 
iniraal learns to " pose " in the real sense of 
ie word, no matter how many times he may 
igure as a model. The cow is really the most 
patient of all animals to paint from, and if 
supplied with a comfortable armful of clover 
will stand and munch contentedly for hours 
11 a time. Occasionally she will take 
it into her head to lie down, which 
makes it advisable to engage models in 
pairs, *o if one lies down or becomes 

the canvas before it is touched with the brush. 
Then should be shown the life and feeling 
which are to come out later in the finished 
work. All this is hard for a student to 
believe, for he is very apt to think that with 
paint he can accomplish his result, without 
giving time to the charcoal and pencil 

A favourite study with the students is an 
old rustic with an easy-going mare and cart. 
This picturesque turn-out is, in fact, the staple 

obstreperous, the other may be used 
to better advantage. 

On very warm days a small boy is 
employed to stand near the models and 
wave off the flies with a green bough, and new 
models arc usually tied to a stake driven into 
the earth ; and if they show tendencies to 
move about much and are restless there are 
ropes stretched on either side of them from 
other stakes, so they quickly learn to keep 
their position. 

The two charcoal drawings which we show, 
by Mr. Cakleron, were done by him to 
demonstrate to his pupils the amount of 
drawing which is required before the use of 
paim T and that it is necessary that a fairly 
good sketch of the animal should be upon 



study to work from 
at any and all times. 
The rustic himself 
is everything to be 
desired by way of 
looks and attitudes, 
while the old cart 
and sleepy horse 
could not well be 
improved upon 
from the artist 
view-point of sweet 

Sometimes an additional charm is added 
through one of the feminine students, or 
perhaps a half-dozen of them, climbing into 
the antique vehicle and taking a turn at 
posing for the benefit of the class. Mr. 
Calderou has a number of fine dogs, and it 
is needless to tell of their figuring to a great 
extent in the work of the school, One of 
them, a beautiful greyhound, is seen in 
Mr, Calderon's well known picture, "The 
Cavalier's Return/' Patrick, an Irish wolf- 
hound, served as the model in li Orphans," 
the most popular Academy picture Mr. 




mm, in bronze, occupies a con- 
spicuous place in the class-room, 

Sometimes, as a variety, there are 
goats worked in for models, ' and 
unless Billy is well fed every minute 
he makes frantic attempts to lunch 
off paint rags and colour tubes ; this 
he has never accomplished as yet, 
though one pretty girl student has 
had occasion to lament the painful 
disappearance of a picture-hat, pins, 
roses, and all At another time a 
bulldog of high degree, which had 
been kindly sent over from a neigh- 
bouring kennel for the students to 
paint, watched his chance when the 
attendant was napping and went 
tooth and nail for a canvas against a 
near-by tree, on which his trained 
eye caught sight of two demure- 
looking tabbies, apparently napping 
in the sunlight. He had torn out a 
goodly bit from both figures by the 
time the picture was rescued, and 
displayed the greatest ill -temper 
during the remainder of the sitting. 

These are trifling incidents, to be 
sure, but go to show that there are 


Calderon has ever 
shown. He is 
seen with two 
very small and dis- 
consolate- looking 
puppies tenderly 
held between his 
great paws, while 
his intelligent face 
is filled with sym- 
pathy and com- 

Poor Patrick 
died a year ago, 
and there was 
much sorrowing 
amongst the stu- 
dents, as well as 
in the home, for 
he was almost 
human, and it 
speaks well for his 
merits as a model 
to know Hint a 
life - size cast of 

by Google 

cajnkek's horse, k.h.a. uv miss LUCY LOCKWOCm. 

Original from 



many ways in which the monotony of work 
in a class for animal painting may be relieved 
most unexpectedly. 

There is no little interest taken in the dis- 
covery of fresh subjects to paint, and both 
master and students are always on the look- 
out for something new. After work hours 
there is much of 
interest to be seen 
about the country 
which surrounds 
the old Mill Farm, 
and it is on these 
jaunts of pleasure 
that the models 
are come upon. 
Some horse or 
cow or donkey is 
discovered to 
possess some 
quality which the 
workers have 
found wanting in 
others. Perhaps 
the fasdnation will lie in some trick of colour 
or demureness of mien ; at any rate, there is 
something "taking" in the creature from the 
point of an artist, and straightway the school 
begin to ply questions as to the owner, and 
when located the negotiations are gone 
through whereby that particular beast is to 
be immortalized on canvas. Sometimes the 
farmer- folk themselves are persuaded to sit; 
a man driving in a rickety waggon, perhaps, 
or a buxom girl feeding the calves, all help 
to make a variety of interesting studies and 
afford delrgbtfiul ideas for outdoor sketching. 

So pleasing is the life in these surroundings 

made possible for the artist that many of 
Mr. Calderons friends, well-known painters^ 
make a point of spending several days every 
summer at the farm, when they paint and 
rusticate to their best liking, and in fact there 
is some likelihood of a colony of ^udios 
being arranged by Mr. Calderon, where 

FYtUn a Photo, tff F. Cv** t Mi-fhumt. 

nearly fledged artists may spend the summer 
days and work with the same freedom as the 
students. This is merely an idea, of course, 
which Mr. Calderon has up his sleeve, but it 
is likely tb develop into the real at any 

In the barn w r here the students work on 
wet days are seen any number of casts and 
skeletons of different animals as well as 
anatomical charts, for to paint a dog requires 
a knowledge of canine anatomy ; but one 
need not study the individual anatomy of 
each hreed or even of each species, for if an 
artist know that of a horse, for instance, he 


(By permission of Robinson & Co., Bristol, owner* of the copyright, Picture purchased for National Gallery of QtietftiLaodJ 

/^rtrt^I ■-. Original from 





is pretty sure to hit upon the right ideas for a 
cow or dtfg- But know the anatomy of some 
animal he must, and then couple it with 
keen and quick observation, and he has it. 

In studying horses for action the students 
are not supposed to spend the time in sketch- 
ing as well, but are taught to observe closely, 
and when they come to work they find they 
have the memory of it to work from. One 
cannot well sketch a galloping horse with him 
galloping before one, though with the students 
it is often that the study is made to gallop 
toward and away from them now and again 
during the hours of work, 

Mr. Calderon has been a painter of 
animals since a mere boy, and is happily 
fortunate in never having had a picture 
refused when sent to the Royal Academy, 
His first picture was shown there when but a 
boy of sixteen, and was bought by Queen 

ties for advancement in one's art, but a first- 
rate outing at the same time, and what art 
student would ask for more? The days are 
all too short for most of them, in truth, and 
when the weeks have slipped by, and it is 
time to return to the work in town, there are 
no end of regrets at leaving the old rick-ynrd T 
the cows, and the freedom of work in the 

Both of the paintings by Mr. Calderon, 
shown in our illustrations, have been 
exhibited in the Royal Academy, and are 
among the most popular done by this artist. 
The one called "The Crest of the Hill" 
was purchased for the National Gallery of 
Queensland, while the other, "The Flood/' 
belongs to a private collector. Both pictures 
were done from real life, the models for the 
former being the finest type of the "dray 
horse n variety, the sort of horse, by the way, 


(Exhibited in the Royal Academy.) 

Victoria. The subject was " Feeding the 
Hungry/ 1 and showed a small boy feeding 
some puppies on the deck of a ship. Since 
this success he has been a regular exhibitor. 

His understanding of animals and unusual 
appreciation of their qualities as models 
make him thorough master of the art of 
teaching, and many of his pupils have worked 
their way into the Academy. 

The whole atmosphere of the school at 
the old Mill Farm is so essentially natural 
and restful that it is a pleasure to work, for 
one is not only given the happiest opportune 

which best delights a painter of animals, 
They possess much more character, they 
believe, than the trim, high-bred horse of long 
pedigree, and there is such strength and 
power to be brought out. 

There is as much individuality shown in 
the study of a horse as in the portrait of a 
person, and the delight of the work lies in 
finding a model that simply bristles with his 
very own personality ; and in these stolid, 
powerful ^ steady -going horses the artist eye 
sees much strength of character to in- 
dividualize and stamp each one of them. 

by Google 

Original from 

The First Men in the Moon. 

By H. G. Wells. 




HE penultimate message des- 
cribes, with occasionally even 
elaborate detail, the encounter 
between Caver and the Grand 
Lunar, who is the ruler or 
master of the moon. Cavor 

seems to have sent most of it without inter- 
ference but to have been interrupted in the 

concluding portion. The second came after 

an interval of a week. 
The first message begins; u At last I am 

able to resume this - — -" ; it then becomes 

illegible for a 

space, and after 

a time resumes 

in mid -sen- 
The missing 

words of the 

following sen- 
tence are pro- 

bably (t the 

crowd," There 

follows quite 

clearly ; u grew 

ever denser as 

we drew near 

the palace of 

the Grand 

Lunar — if I 

may call a 

series of exca- 

vations a 
palace. Every- 
where faces 
stared at me— 
blank, chiti- 
nous gapes and 

masks, big eyes peering over tremendous nose 
tentacles, and little eyes beneath monstrous 
forehead plates; below an undergrowth of 
smaller creatures dodged and yelped, and gro- 
tesque heads poised on sinuous, swanlike, long- 
join ted necks appeared craning over shoulders 
and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome 
space about me marched a cordon of stolid, 
scuttle-headed guards, who had joined us on 
our leaving the boat in which we had come 
along the channels of the Central Sea. The 
flea-like artist with the little brain joined us 
also, and a thirk bunch of lean porter-ants 
swayed and struggled under the multitude 

Copyright, by H, G. Wells, In 

of conveniences that were considered essen- 
tial to my state. I was carried in a litter 
during the final stage of our journey. It was 
made of some very ductile metal that looked 
dark to me, meshed and woven and with 
bars of paler metal, and about me as I 
advanced there grouped itself a long and 
complicated procession, 

"In front, after the manner of heralds, 
marched four trumpet-faced creatures making 
a devastating bray ; and then came squat, 
almost beetle like, ushers before and behind, 
and on either hand a galaxy of learned heads, 
a sort of animated encyclopaedia, who were, 


Phi-oo explained, to stand about the Grand 
Lunar for purposes of reference. (Not a thing 
in lunar science, not a point of view or method 
of thinking, that these wonderful beings did 
not carry in their heads.) Followed guards 
and porters, and then Phi-oo ? s shivering 
brain borne also on a litter. Then came 
Tsi-puff in a slightly less important litter; 
then myself on a litter of greater elegance 
than any other and surrounded by my food 
am! drink uUendanK More IrunipeU-rs came 
next, splitting the ear with vehement outcries, 
and then several big brains, special corre- 
spondents one might well call them or histori- 

ihe United Stales of .^qifl^,,gi|pf^3fy| 




ographers, charged with the task of observing 
and remembering every detail of this epoch- 
making interview. A company of attendants, 
bearing and dragging banners and masses of 
scented fungus and curious symbols, com- 
pleted the procession. The way was lined by 
ushers and officers in caparisons that gleamed 
like steel, and beyond their line the heads 
and tentacles of that enormous crowd surged 
on either hand. 

" I will own that I am still by no means 
indurated to the peculiar effect of the 
Selenite appearance, and to find myself as it 
were adrift on this broad sea of excited 
entomology was by no means agreeable. 
Just for a space I had something like I 
should imagine people mean when they 
speak of the * horrors/ It had come to me 
before in these lunar caverns, when on occa- 
sion 1 have found myself weaponless and 
with an undefended back, amidst a crowd of 
these Selenites, but never quite so vividly. It 
is, of course, as absolutely irrational a feeling 
as one could well have, and I hope gradually 
to subdue it. But just for a moment, as I 
swept forward into the welter of the vast 
crowd, it was only by gripping my litter 
tightly and summoning all my will-power 
that I succeeded in avoiding an outcry or 
some such manifestation. It lasted perhaps 
three minutes ; then I had myself in hand 

" We ascended the spiral of a vertical way 
for some time and then passed through a 
series of huge halls, dome-roofed and glori- 
ously decorated. The approach to the 
Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to give 
one a vivid impression of his greatness. The 
halls — all happily sufficiently luminous for my 
terrestrial eye — were a cunning and elaborate 
crescendo of space and decoration. The 
effect of their progressive size was enhanced 
by the steady diminution in the lighting, 
and by a thin haze of incense that thickened 
as one advanced. In the earlier ones the 
vivid, clear light made everything finite and 
concrete to me. I seemed lo advance con- 
tinually to something larger, dimmer, and less 

" I must confess that all this splendour 
made me feel extremely shabby and unworthy. 
I was unshaven and unkempt ; 1 had brought 
no razor ; I had a coarse beard over my mouth. 
On earth I have always been inclined to 
despise any attention to my person beyond 
a proper care for cleanliness ; but under 
the exceptional circumstances in which I 
found myself, representing, as I did, my 
planet and my kind, and depending very 


largely upon the attractiveness of my appear- 
ance for a proper reception, I could have 
given much for something a little more 
artistic and dignified than the husks I wore. 
I had been so serene in the belief that 
the moon was uninhabited as to overlook 
such precautions altogether. As it was I was 
dressed in a flannel jacket, knickerbockers, 
and golfing stockings, stained with every 
sort of dirt the moon offered ; slippers (of 
which the left heel was wanting), and a 
blanket, through a hole in which I thrust my 
head. (These clothes, indeed, I still wear.) 
Sharp bristles are anything but an improve- 
ment to my cast of features, and there 
was an unmended tear at the knee of my 
knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as 
I squatted in my litter ; my right stocking, 
too, persisted in getting about my ankle. I 
am fully alive to the injustice my appearance 
did humanity, and if by any expedient I could 
have improvised something a little out of the 
way and imposing I would have done so. 
But I could hit upon nothing. I did what I 
could with my blanket — folding it somewhat 
after the fashion of a toga, and for the rest I 
sat as upright as the swaying of my litter per- 

" Imagine the largest hall you have ever 
been in, elaborately decorated with blue and 
whitish-blue Majolica, lit by blue light, you 
know not how, and surging with metallic or 
livid-white creatures of such a mad diversity 
as I have hinted. Imagine this hall to end 
in an open archway beyond which is a still 
larger hall, and beyond this yet another and 
still larger one, and so on. At the end of 
the vista a flight of steps, like the steps of 
Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend out of sight. 
Higher and higher these steps appear to go 
as one draws nearer their base. But at last 
I came under a huge archway and beheld 
the summit of these steps, and upon it the 
Grand Lunar exalted on his throne. 

" He was seated in a blaze of incandescent 
blue. A hazy atmosphere filled the place so 
that its walls seemed invisibly remote. This 
gave him an effect of floating in a blue-black 
void. He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud 
at first, brooding on his glaucous throne ; his 
brain-case must have measured many yards 
in diameter. For some reason that I cannot 
fathom a number of blue search -lights 
radiated from behind the throne on which he 
sat, as though he were a star, and imme- 
diately encircling him was a halo. About him, 
and little and indistinct in this glow, a number 
of body-servants sustained and supported 
him, and overshadowed and standing in a 




semicircle beneath him were his 
intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers 
and com pu tat or s and searchers, his flatterers 
and servants, and all the distinguished insects 
"I the court of the moon* Still lower stood 
ushers and messengers, and then all down 
the countless steps of the throne were guards, 
and at the base, enormous, various, indis- 
tinct, avast swaying multitude of the minor 
dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a 
perpetual scraping whisper on the rocky 
floor, their limbs moved with a rustling 

"As I entered r 
fhe penultimate 
ball the music 
rose and ex- 
prided into an 
imperial magni- 
ficence of sound, 
and the shrieks 
of the news- 
bearers died 
way. . . . 

"I entered the 
list and greatest 
Ml. . . . 

* My proces- 
sor! opened out 
Rke a fan, My 
ushers and 
guards went 
right and left, 
and the three 
iitiers bearing 
myself and 
Phi oo and Tsi- 
puff marched 
across a shiny 
*aste of floor to 
the foot of the 
giant stairs. 
Thm began a 
vast throbbing 
hum, that min- 
gled with the 
music. The two 
Selenites dis- 
mounted, but I 
ras bidden re- 
gain seated— I 
imagine as a 
special honour The music ceased, but not 
that hamming, and by a simultaneous move- 
ment of ten thousand respectful eyes my 
attention was directed to the enhaloed 
supreme intelligence that hovered above us, 
"At first as I peered into the radiating 
blaze this quintessential brain looked very 

much like an opaque, featureless bladder with 
dim, undulating ghosts of convolutions writh- 
ing visibly within. Then beneath its enormity 
and just above the edge of the throne one 
saw with a start minute elfin eyes peering out 
of the blaze. No face, but eyes, as if they 
peered through holes, At first I could see 
no more than these two staring little eyes, 
and then below I distinguished the little 
dwarfed body and its insect jointed limbs 
shrivelled and white. The eyes stared down 
at me with a strange intensity, and the lower 

part of the 


by dC 

swollen globe 
was wrinkled. 
looking little 
hand - tentacles 
steadied this 
shape on the 
throne, . . . 

"It was great 
It was pitiful 
One forgot the 
hall and the 

"I ascended 
the staircase by 
jerks. It seemt-d 
to me that the 
purple glowing 
bra in -case above 
us spread over 
me, and took 
more and more 
of the whole 
effect into itself 
as I drew nearer. 
The tiers of 
attendants and 
helpers grouped 
about their 
master seemed 
to dwindle and 
fade into the 
glare. I saw that 
the shadowy 
attendants were 
busy spraying 
that great brain 
with a cooling 
spray, and pat- 
ting and sustaining it. For my own part 
I sat gripping my swaying litter and staring 
at the Grand Lunar, unable to turn my 
gaze aside. And at last, as I reached a 
little landing that was separated only by ten 
steps or so from the supreme seat, the woven 
splendour of the music reached a climax and 
Original from 




censed, and I was left naked, as it were, in 
that vastness, beneath the still scrutiny of the 
Grand Lunar's eyes. 

" He was scrutinizing the first man he had 
ever seen 

" My eyes dropped at last from his greatness 
to the faint figures in the blue mist about 
him, and then down the steps to the massed 
Selenites, still and expectant in their 
thousands, packed on the floor below. 
Once again an 
u nreasonable 
horror reached 
out towards me. 
. . . . r A n d 

"After the 
pause came the 
salutation, I was 
assisted from my 
litter f and stood 
awkwardly while 
a number of 
curious and no 
doubt deeply 
symbolical ges- 
tures were vicari- 
ously performed 
for me by I wo 
slender officials. 
The encyclopae- 
dic galaxy of the 
learned that had 
accompanied me 
to the entrance 
of the last hall 
appeared two 
steps above me 
an d left and 
right of me, in 
readiness for the 
Grand L unarms 
need, and Phi- 
oo's white brain 
placed itself 
about half -way 
up to the throne 
in such a posi- 
tion as to com- 
municate easily between us without turn- 
ing his liack on either the Grand Lunar 
or myself. Tsi-puff took up a position 
behind him. Dexterous ushers sidled side- 
ways towards me, keeping a full face to the 
Presence. I seated myself Turkish fashion, 
and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff also knelt down 
above me. There came a pause- The eyes 
of the nearer court went from me to the 
Grand Lunar and came back to me, and a 




hissing and piping of expectation passed 
across the hidden multitudes below and 

"That humming ceased- 
" For the first and last time in my experi- 
ence the moon was silent, 

" I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. 

The Grand Lunar was addressing me. It was 

like the rubbing of a finger upon a paneof glass. 

" I watched him attentively for a time and 

then glanced at 
the alert Phi-oo. 
I felt amidst 
these filmy 
beings ridicu- 
lously thick and 
fleshy and solid ; 
my head all jaw 
and black hair. 
My eyes went 
1) a c k to the 
Grand Lunar. 
He had ceased ; 
his attendants 
were busy, and 
fices was glisten- 
ing and running 
with cooling 

" Phi-oo medi- 
tated through an 
interval He con- 
sulted Tsi-puflT, 
Then he began 
piping hU recog- 
nisable English 
—at first a little 
nervously, so 
that he was not 
very clear. 

Grand Lunar- 
wishes to say— 
wishes to say 
— he gathers you 
are— nVm — men 
— that you are a 
man from the 
planet earth. He wishes to say that he 
welcomes you — welcomes you — and wishes 

to learn learn, if I may use the word — 

the state of your worlds and the reason why 
you came to this,' 

" He paused, I was about to reply when 
he resumed. He proceeded to remarks of 
which the drift was not very clear, though I 
am inclined to think they were intended to 
be complimentary. He told me that the 
Original from 





earth was to the moon what the sun is to the 
earth, and that the Selenites desired very 
greatly to learn about the earth and men. 
He then told me, no doubt in compliment 
also, the relative magnitude and diameter of 
earth and moon, and the perpetual wonder 
and speculation with which the Selenites 
had regarded our planet. I meditated with 
downcast eyes and decided to reply that men 
too had wondered what might lie in the 
moon* and had judged it dead, little reck- 
ing of such magnificence as I had seen that 
day. The Grand Lunar, in token of recogni- 
tion, caused his blue search-light to rotate in 
a very confusing manner, 
and all about the great 
hall ran the pipings and 
whisperings and rustlings 
of the report of what I 
had said. He then pro- 
ceeded to put to Phi-oo 
a number of inquiries 
which were easier to 

"He understood, he 
explained, that we lived 
on the surface of the 
earth, that our air and 
sea were outside the 
globe ; the latter part, 
indeed, he already knew 
from his astronomical 
specialists. He was very 
anxious to have more 
detailed information of 
what he called this extra- 
ordinary state of affairs, 
for from the solidity of 
the earth there had always 
been a disposition to re- 
gard it as uninhabitable. 
He endeavoured first to 
ascertain the extremes of 
temperature to which we 
earth beings were ex- 
posed, and he was deeply 
interested by my descriptive treatment of 
clouds and rain. His imagination was 
assisted by the fact that the lunar atmosphere 
in the outer galleries of the night side is not 
infrequently very foggy. He seemed inclined 
to marvel that we did not find the sunlight 
too intense for our eyes, and was interested 
in my attempt to explain that the sky was 
tempered to a bluish colour through the 
refraction of the air, though I doubt if he 
clearly understood thaL I explained how 
the iris of the human eyes can contract the 
pupil and save the delicate internal structure 

Vol. raL-T©, 


from the excess of sunlight, and was allowed 
to approach within a few feet of the Presence 
in order that this structure might be seen. 
This led to a comparison of the lunar and 
terrestrial eyes. The former is not only 
excessively sensitive to such light as men 
can see, but it can also set heat, and every 
difference in temperature within the moon 
renders objects visible to it, 

"The iris was quite a new organ to the 
Grand Lunar. For a time he amused him- 
self by flashing his rays into my face and 
watching my pupils contract As a conse- 
quence, I was dazzled and blinded for some 

little time 

" But in spite of that 
discomfort 1 found some- 
thing reassuring by in- 
sensible degrees in the 
rationality of this business 
of question and answer. 
I could shut my eyes, 
think of my answer, and 
almost forget that the 
Grand Lunar has no 

L "When' I had de- 
scended again to my 
proper place the Grand 
Lunar asked how we 
sheltered ourselves from 
heat and storms, and I 
expounded to him the 
arts of building and fur- 
nishing. Here w T e wan- 
dered into misunderstand- 
ings and cross-purposes, 
due largely, I must admit, 
to the looseness of my 
expressions, For a long 
time I had great difficulty 
in making him under- 
stand the nature of a 
house. To him and his 
attendant Selenites it 
seemed no doubt the most 
whimsical thing in the world that men should 
build houses when they might descend into 
excavations, and an additional complication 
was introduced by the attempt I made to 
explain that men had originally begun their 
homes in caves, and that they were now 
taking their railways and many establish- 
ments beneath the surface. Here I think a 
desire for intellectual completeness betrayed 
There was also a considerable tangle 

I'UM-I i ■ ]■■ 1 1; m ■:■: I, 


by LiOOglC 

due to an equally unwise attempt on my part 
to explain about mines. Dismissing this 
topic at last in an incomplete state, the 




Grand Lunar inquired what we did with the 
interior of our globe. 

11 A tide of twittering and piping swept into 
the remotest corners of that great assembly 
when it was at last made clear that we men 
know absolutely nothing of the contents of 
the world upon which the immemorial genera- 
tions of our ancestors had been evolved. 
Three times had I to repeat that of all the 
4,000 miles of substance between the earth 
and its centre men knew only to the depth of 
a mile> and that very vaguely, I understood 
the Grand Lunar to ask why had I come to 
the moon seeing we had scarcely touched our 
own planet yet t but he did not trouble me at 
that time to proceed to an explanation, being 
too anxious to pursue the details of this mad 
inversion of all his ideas. 

" He reverted to the question of weather, 
and I tried 10 
describe the 
changing sky, 
and snow, and 
frost and hurri- 
canes. 'But 
when the night 
comes.' he 
asked, c is it not 

" I told him 
it was colder 
than by day. 

" ' And does 
not your atmo- 
sphere freeze ? ' 

u I told him 
not; that it 
was never cold 
enough for that, 
because our 
nights were so 

" ' Not even 
liquefy ? J 

11 1 was about 
to say ( No,' 
but then it 
occurred to me that one part at least of our 
atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does 
sometimes liquefy and form dew and some- 
times freeze and form frost — a process 
perfectly analogous to the freezing of all the 
external atmosphere of the moon during its 
longer night, I made myself clear on this 
point, and from that the Grand Lunar went 
on to speak with me of sleep. For the need 
of sleep that comes so regularly every twenty- 
four hours to all things is part also of our 

earthly inheritance. On the moon they Test 
only- at rare intervals and after exceptional 
exertions. Then I tried to describe to him 
the soft splendours of a summer night, and 
from that I passed to a description of those 
animals that prowl by night and sleep by 
day, I told him of lions and tigers, and 
here it seemed as though we had come to a 
deadlock. For, save in their waters, there 
are no creatures in the moon not absolutely 
domestic and subject to his will, and so it 
has been for immemorial years. They have 
monstrous water creatures, but no evil beasts, 
and the idea of anything strong and large 
existing * outside * in the night is very 
difficult for them, . . . 

(Th* rtcnrd is here too broken to transcribe for the wiwe* of pei-tup* 
twenty words or more. 3 

" He talked with his attendants, as I 
suppose, upon the strange superficiality and 

ness of (man), 
who lives on 
the mere sur- 
face of a world, 
a creature of 
waves and 
winds and all 
the chances of 
space, who can- 
not even unite 
to overcome 
the beasts that 
prey upon his 
kind, and yet 
who dares to 
invade another 
planet During 
this aside I sat 
thinking, and 
then at his de- 
sire I told him 
of the different 
sorts of men. 
He searched 
me with ques- 
tions, 'And for 
all sorts of work 
you have the 
But who thinks? Who 


by Google 

same sort of men, 
governs ? ' 

" I gave him an outline of the democratic 

" When I had done he ordered cooling 
sprays upon his brow, and then requested me to 
repeat my explanation, conceiving something 
had miscarried. 

" * Do they not do different things, then ? * 
said Fhi-oo. 

M Some J admitted were thinkers and some 
Original from 



officials ; some hunted, some were mechanics, 
some artists, some toilers. ' But all rule/ I 

" ' And have they not different shapes to fit 
them to their different duties? ' 

u c None that you can see,' I said, c except 
perhaps for clothes. Their minds perhaps 
differ a little/ I reflected. 

" * Their minds must differ a great deal,' 
said the Grand Lunar, 'or they would all 
want to do the same things.' 

" In order to bring myself into a closer har- 
mony with his preconceptions I said that 
his surmise was right. ' It was all hidden in 
the brain/ I said ; * but the difference was 
there. Perhaps if one could see the minds 
and souls of men they would be as varied 
and unequal as the Selenites. There were 
great men and small men, men who could 
reach out far and wide, and men who could 
go swiftly ; noisy, trumpet-minded men, and 
men who could remember without think- 

: „ „ m* record U indistinct 1 

mg L for three word* J 

" He interrupted me to recall me to my 
previous statement. 'But you said all men 
rule ? * he pressed. 

" * To a certain extent/ 1 said, and made, 
I fear, a denser fog with my explanation. 

" He reached out to a salient fact. ' Do 
you mean/ he asked, i that there is no 
Grand Earthly ? ' 

" I thought of several people, but assured 
him finally there was none. I explained that 
such autocrats and emperors as we had 
tried upon earth had usually ended in drink, 
or vice, or violence, and that the large and 
influential section of the people of the earth 
to which I belonged, the Anglo-Saxons, did 
not mean to try that sort of thing again. At 
which the Grand Lunar was even more 

" * But how do you keep even such wisdom 
as you have?' he asked; and I explained 
to him the way we helped our limited 
[^SStaP] with libraries of books. I 
explained to him how our science was grow- 
ing by the united labours of innumerable 
little men, and on that he made no comment 
save that it was evident we had mastered 
much in spite of our social savagery, or we 
could not have come to the moon. Yet the 
contrast was very marked. With knowledge 
the Selenites grew and changed; man- 
kind stored their knowledge about them 
and remained brutes — equipped. He said 

*Ktc. ("Here there to » ihort piece! 

iniS ... L of the record indittlnefc J 

•' He then caused me to describe how we 
went about this earth of ours, and I des- 
cribed to him our railways and ships. For 

a time he could not understand that we had 
had the use of steam only one hundred 
years, but when he did he was clearly 
amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing 
that the Selenites use years to count by, just 
as we do on earth, though I can make 
nothing of their numeral system. That how- 
ever does not matter, because Phi-00 
understands ours.) From that I went on 
to tell him that mankind had dwelt in cities 
only for nine or ten thousand years, and that 
we were still not united in one brotherhood, 
but under many different forms of government 
This astonished the Grand Lunar very much, 
when it was made clear to him. At first be 
thought we referred merely to administrative 

4<t Our States and Empires are still the 
rawest sketches of what order will some day 
be/ I said, and so I came to tell him. . . . 

[At this point a length of record that probably represents thirty or 
forty word* ii totaHjTlleg ible.] 

"The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed 
by the folly of men in clinging to the incon- 
venience of diverse tongues. * They want to 
communicate, and yet not to communicate/ 
he said, and then for a long time he 
questioned me closely concerning war. 

" He was at first perplexed and incredulous. 
'You mean to say/ he asked, seeking con- 
firmation, 'that you run about over the 
surface of your world— this world, whose riches 
you have scarcely begun to scrape — killing 
one another for beasts to eat? y 

" I told him that was perfectly correct. 

" He asked for particulars to assist his 
imagination. ' But do not your ships arjd 
your poor little cities get injured?' he asked, 
and I found the waste of property and 
conveniences seemed to impress him almost 
as much as the killing. 4 Tell me more/ 
said the Grand Lunar ; ' make me see 
pictures. I cannot conceive these things. 1 

" And so, for a space, though something 
loth, I told him the story of earthly War. 

." I told him of the first orders and cere- 
monies of war, of warnings and ultimatums, 
and the marshalling and marching of troops. 
I gave him an idea of manoeuvres and 
positions and battle joined. I told him of 
sieges and assaults, of starvation and hard- 
ship in trenches, and of sentinels freezing in 
the snow. I told him of routs and surprises, 
and desperate last stands and faint hopes, 
and the pitiless pursuit of fugitives and the 
dead upon the field. I told, too, of the past, 
of invasions and massacres, of the Huns and 
Tartars, and the wars of Mahomet and the 
Caliphs and of the Crusades. And as I 
went on, and Phi-00 translated, the Selen- 


■_| 1 1 I tf I II '.' I 1 1 






ites cooed and murmured in a steadily 
intensified emotion* 

" I told them an ironclad could fire a shot 
of a ton twelve miles, and go through 20ft 
of iron — and how we could steer torpe- 
does under water. I went on to describe a 
Maxim gun in action and what I could 
imagine of the Battle of Colenso. The 
( rrand Lunar was so incredulous that he inter- 
rupted the translation of what I had said in 
order to have my verification of my account 
They particularly douhted my description of 
the men cheering and rejoicing as they went 
into {? battle). 

i( ' Rut surely they do not like it ! ? trans- 
lated Phi-oo. 

" I assured them men of my race considered 
battle the most glorious experience of life, at 
which the whole assembly was stricken with 

by Google 

" l But what good is this war ? ' 
asked the Grand Lunar, sticking to 
his theme. 

" ■ Oh ! as for good!' said I .; 'it 
thins the population ! f 

" i But why should there be a 
need ? ' . . . . 

11 There came a pause, the cool- 
ing sprays impinged upon his brow, 
and then he spoke again," 

At this pomt there suddenly becomes 
predominant in the record a series of 
undulations that have been apparent as 
a perplexing complication as far back as 
Cavor s description of the silence that fell 
before the first speaking of the Grand 
Lunar. These undulations are evidently 
the result of radiations proceeding from a 
lunar source, and their persistent approxi- 
mation to the alternating signals of Cavor 
is curiously suggestive of some operator 
deliberately seeking to mix them, in with 
his message and render it illegible. At 
first they are small and regular, so that 
with a little care and the loss of very Tew 
words we have been able to disentangle 
Cavor's message ; then they become hroad 
and larger, then suddenly they are irre- 
gular, with an irregularity that gives the 
effect at last of someone scrihbling through 
a line of willing. For a long time nothing 
can be made of this madly zigzagging 
trace ; then quite abruptly the interruption 
ceases, leaves a few words clear, and then 
resumes and continues for all the rest of 
the message t completely obliterating what- 
ever Cavor was attempting to transmit. 
Why, if this is indeed a deliberate inter- 
vent ion, the Selenites should have pre- 
ferred lo let Cavor go on transmitting his 
message in happy ignorance of their 
obliteration of its record, when it wns 
clearly rjuitc in their power and much 
more easy and convenient for them to stop 
his proceedings at any time, is a problem 
to which I can contribute nothing, The 
thing seems to have happened so, and that is all I 
can say. This last rag of his description of the Grand 
Lunar begins, in mid-sentence : — 

"interrogated me very closely upon my 
secret. I was able in a little while to get to 
an understanding with them, and at last to 
elucidate what has been a puzzle to me ever 
since I realized the vastness of their science, 
namely, how it is they themselves have 
never discovered ' Cavorite.' I find they 
know of it as a theoretical snbstance, 
but they have always regarded it as a 
practical impossibility, because for some 
reason there is no helium in the moon, and 
helium " 

Across the last letters of helium slashes the re- 
sumption of that obliterating trace. Note that vvord 
"secret/' for on that, ami that alone, I base my 
interpretation of the last message, as t>oth Mr, Wen- 
digee and myself now l*elieve it to be, that he is ever 
likely to send us. 

Original from 






In this unsatisfactory manner the pen- 
ultimate message of Cavor dies out One 
seems to see him away there amidst his biue- 
lit apparatus intently signalling us to the last, 
all unaware of the curtain of confusion that 
drops between us ; all unaware, too, of the 
final dangers that even then must have been 
creeping upon him. His disastrous want 
of vulgar common-sense had utterly betrayed 
him. He had talked of war, he had talked 
of all the strength and irrational violence of 
men, of their insatiable aggressions, their 
tireless futility of conflict. He had filled 
the whole moon-world with this im- 
pression of our race, and then 1 think 
it is plain that he admitted upon 
himself alone hung the possibility — 
at least for a long time — of any 
further men 
reaching the 
moon- The line 
the cold, in- 
human reason of 
the moon would 
take seems plain 
enough to me, 
and a suspicion 
of it, and then 
perhaps some 
sudden sharp 
realization of it, 
must have come 
to him. One 
imagines him 
going about the 
moon with the 
remorse of this 
fatal indiscretion 
growing in his 
mind. During a 
certain time 
most assuredly 
the Grand Lunar 
was deliberating 
the new situa- 
tion, and for all 
that time Cavor 
went as free as 
ever he had 
gone. We ima- 
gine obstacles of some sort prevented Cavor 
getting to his electro-magnetic apparatus again 
after that last "message I have given- For 
some days we received nothing, Perhaps he 

' struggling ever more desperately and 

was having fresh audiences, and trying to 
evade his previous admissions. Who can 
hope to guess ? 

And then suddenly, like a cry in the night, 

like a cry that is followed by a stillness, came 

the last message. It is the briefest fragment, 

the broken beginnings of two sentences, 

The first was : *' I was mad to let the 

Grand Lunar know M 

There was an interval of perhaps a minute.. 
One imagines some interruption from without. 
A departure from the instrument — a dreadful 
hesitation among the looming masses of 
apparatus in that dim, blue-lit cavern— a 
sudden rush back to it, full of a resolve that 
came too late. Then f as if it were hastily 

t ran s mitted, 
came: u Cavorite 
made as follows : 

take f ' 

There followed 
one word, a quite 
unmeaning word 
as it stands: 
u uless/ 5 
And that is all. 
It may be he 
made a hasty 
attempt to spell 
u useless " when 
his fate was close 
upon him. What- 
ever it was that 
was happening 
about that appa- 
ratus, we cannot 
tell. Whatever 
it was we shall 
never, I know, 
receive another 
message from 
the moon. For 
my own part a 
vivid dream has 
come to my help, and I see, 
almost as plainly as though I had 
seen it in actual fact, a blue-lit dis- 
hevelled Cavor Struggling in the 
grip of a great multitude of those 
insect Selenites, struggling ever 
more desperately and hopelessly 
as they swarm upon him, shout- 
ing, expostulating, perhaps even 
at last fighting, and being forced backward step 
by step out of all speech or sign of his fellows, 
for evermore into the Unknown — into the 
dark, into that silence that has no end .... 


by Google 

Original from 

7 he Japanese jack the Giant Killer. 

By Leonard Larkin, 
With I i hi sf rations frvm an atttitni Japanese illuminated roil. 

THOUSAND years ago Japan 
was a land as full of giants and 
fairies and ogres and dragons 
as this country (or, indeed^ any 
other country) at about the 
same time* That is to say, 
stories are told in japan to-day of the fairies 
and giants of those times just as they are in 
our own nurseries ; and the Japanese tales, 
like the English, the French, and the rest, 
have usually some groundwork of historical 
fact Indeed, it is far more certain that the 
hero of the story I am now to tell was an 
actual historical personage than that our 
own King Arthur was ; though his adven- 
tures, like the King's, have been enlarged 
and improved by the imaginations of many 
generations. Listen, then, to the story of 
the terrible Shiuten Doji, the man-eating ogre 

natural creatures, but, no matter what form 
he might take in his waking hours, he could 
not keep it in sleep, and the moment that 
slumber overtook him he lay revealed in all 
his hideousness for what he was— a horned, 
red, ugly giant. His almost constant form 
during day was that of a great, clumsy, 
smooth-faced boy, 7ft. or Sft high ; and as 
he passed all his inactive days in orgies of 
drunkenness, he was given the name of the 
Shiuten Doji, or the great drunkard boy. 
But always, as I have said, so soon as he 
was overcome by sleep, the smooth, boyish 
face was changed into that of a great, hairy, 
flaming, red demon, and in place of a great 
boy there lay an even greater horned and 
terrible giant, 

This fearful creature lived wholly on 
human flesh, and to supply his larder he and 


of Japan, and his final destruction by the 
valiant knight Raiko, aided by his five faith- 
ful esquires, 

A thousand years ago, in the days of the 
good Emperor Murakami, there lived in a 
secure fastness among the mountains and 
woods a fearful ogre, who, with his body- 
guard of demons, laid waste the country 
round about, killing, plundering, enslaving, 
and devouring the people. This ogre was 
not originally an ogre by nature, as art those 
of most other countries, but a human being 
whose frightful impieties and flagrant crimes, 
long persisted in, wholly changed his nature 
and transformed him into a giant of cannibal 
tastes, and made him the scourge of the 
peaceful country-side. He had the faculty 
of changing his appearance, like other super- 

by v^ 



his terrible retainers swept the country, killing 
and robbing and carrying off men, women, 
and children captives, of whom the most 
beautiful of the women and children were 
devoured by the ogre himself. And always 
he was waited on by his most beautiful 
prisoners, gentle ladies dragged from the 
nobles' castles, which he and his demons 
took and destroyed, till it became the turn 
of each of the unfortunate captives to be 
killed and eaten. 

The news of these atrocities being brought 
to the good old Emperor Murakami, he was 
greatly afflicted and angry, and he asked if 
there were no valiant knights in his country 
who would face the Shiuten Doji and deliver 
the land from his oppressions. Now, at this 
time the greatest of the knights of Japan 

Original from 




was one Yorimitsu, chief of the great 
Minamoto clan, who for his great deeds of 
valour had been given the surname Raiko 
— the name by which he was known in 
future ages. He had travelled for years in 
Japan as knight-errant, attended by his 
faithful squire Tsuna, righting wrongs, fight- 
ing demons, and succouring the oppressed. 
It was on one of these expeditions that he 
vanquished the great Demon Spider, of which 
I may perhaps tell you another time. Well, 
the Emperors appeal was no sooner uttered 
than Raiko sprang forward and eagerly 
begged to be permitted to undertake the 
task. The aged monarch gladly accegted 
the offer, assuring the knight that when he 
spoke he knew that he could depend on 
the devotion of Raiko, and asked what 
aid he would need. But Raiko would have 
none, but that of his trusty squires, and 
expressed himself ready to face the demon 
and all his retainers with these at his back ■ 
and so he was given the Imperial coin- 
mission^ inscribed in golden letters, to go 
forth and destroy the Shiuten Doji and all 
who aided him. 

First, like a devout warrior, Raiko repaired 
to the temples, offering tip orisons before 
setting out on his adventure, and receiving 
purification at the hands of the priests. Then 
he took his squires into council, and while 
the arms were being prepared, and the great 

two-handed swords sharpened, they resolved 
on their plans. 

It was decided that the little band should 
travel disguised as travelling priests — Yama- 
bushi — who wander about the mountains and 
woods. In this guise they might travel any- 
where without causing suspicion as to their 
real objects. And so, all being ready, they 
set out, each carrying on his back the wooden 
box, or pack, that the wandering priests used. 
But in this box was no mere change of 
garments and scraps of alms, but the adven- 
turer's suit of armour, 

So they went their way laboriously on foot, 
through the woods and streams and over the 
mountains for many miles, slowly journeying 
toward Sumiyosht, beyond which place lay 
the ogre's castle. And even as they went 
they heard rumours of the Shiuten Doji and 
terrible stories of his crimes, increasing in 
number and enormity every day. Many 
urged them to turn back or take another 
direction, else assuredly they would be taken 
and eaten by the demons. But for all these 
entreaties they pressed on the harder, resolved 
that they would strike at the giant as soon as 
they might, and so put an end to the destruc- 
tion that devastated the land, or die them- 
selves in their daring attempt. And so they 
went, till they came to a part all bleak and 
bare, where no living thing remained ; for 
now they were nearing the ogre's country, and 





*5 2 


all about had been devastated, That night 
they slept in the ruins of a noble castle, 
burnt and blood-stained, from which every 
person not killed on the spot had been 
carried off. 

The next day, as they pressed forward in 
a rocky, barbarous place, where only pines 
grew, they spied before them, standing on a 
rock, an aged, white - bearded elder, who 
greeted them courteously and asked them 
whither they were hound. 

"We are travelling priests, honourable 
father, as you see,'' answered Raiko ; "and 
being come into this desolate place in our 
journey, we are going as well as we may 
toward a castle that is hereabout, that we 
may rest and eat." 

Now, this white-bearded elder was no man, 
but a good spirit, the guardian spirit of that 
province which the wicked ogre had laid 
waste. So he answered and said, " O Raiko, 
well I know thou art a valiant knight, and no 

Shiuten Dojl" And he made himself known 
to them. 

When Raiko and his squires knew that 
this was the Spirit of Sumiyoshi they bowed 
before him and gave humble salutation. And 
they went very joyously with him and rested 
in his retreat among the mountains, and ate 
and drank and were refreshed ; and Raiko 
served the Spirit very dutifully with his own 
hands. And as they sat the good Spirit gave 
them much counsel as to the place they were 
going to and the ways and manners of the 
ogre and his demons, so that they should see 
nothing that should surprise them or dis- 
concert their actions. And to Raiko the 
Spirit gave a magic golden cap to wear under 
his helmet — a cap that nothing could pierce : 
neither sword, nor axe, nor tooth, nor claw, 
no matter what spells of magic should be 
upon the weapon ; for he warned hkn that 
all the expedients of black magic were used 
by the giant, and that the most valiant warriors 


priest, and these are thy brave squires ; and 
well I know the castle thou seekest, the 
castle of the wicked ogre that slays and eats 
the people of the country. Truly * welcome 
thee and give my blessing. Come now, with 
thy good squires, and eat, drink, and rest in 
my retreat ere thou goest forth to slay the 

Digitized by GoOglC 

would find themselves bewildered and help- 
less in the midst of his fiendish enchantments. 
Also, he gave the gallant companions a mighty 
drug that should overcome the spirits of the 
ogre and make him sleep, 

And now, as Raiko and his little band went 
forward once more, the Spirit of Sumiyoshi 
Original from 





wns always with them> leading them safely 
over the rocky mountains through the black 
woods and dangerous passes and giving them 
words of encouragement* And so they went 
through a wilder and rockier country than 
ever, and :\t last arrived by the side of a lake 
where the Spirit bade them farewell, assuring 
them that he would be with them though 
invisible, and that presently they should see 
him again. 

They kept by the shore of the lake till they 
came to a stream, and here they heard a 
sound of weeping. So they turned and 
followed the stream till they came upon a 
noble lady, who was weeping bitterly and 
washing a blood-stained garment as she 
wept. Of hei they asked the whereabouts of 
the ogre's castle, 
but she entreated 
them to turn and 
fly, Tor if they were 
seen they would be 
taken, and their 
doom was certain. 
Finding them re- 
solved, however, 
with a last warning 
as to what they 
mi^ht expect, she 
indicated a path 
through a little 
w T ood. This path 
they took. It was 
a short one, and no 
sooner had the ad- 
venturers emerged 

Vol. xxn.— 20. 

from among the 
trees than they 
found themselves 
before the great 
gate of the giant's 
castle, about which 
stood groups of 
demons of the 

The demons — 
hairy, tusked, gro- 
tesque, blue, red, 
and green, and 
armed with fan- 
tastically cruel 
weapons — were 
amazed at the 
intrusion of this 
helpless handful of 
wandering priests* 
They received 
them with many 
mocking rever- 
ences, and assured them of a very hearty 
hospitality. But Raiko and his men kept 
impassive countenances, and, appearing to 
take the welcome quite seriously, prayed to 
be brought into the presence of the lord 
of the castle. The demons, anticipating a 
pleasant meal from these adventurous priests, 
led them to an ante room while the news of 
their arrival was conveyed to the ogre. 

It had been agreed that, until the time for 
action arrived, the adventurers should strictly 
avoid any appearance of surprise, no matter 
what might happen ; and that they should 
behave precisely as they would in seeking 
the shelter of any nobleman's ca&tle which 
they might come upon on their journey, con- 
forming to the customs of the place, and 




betraying no signs that what they saw and 
heard was anything out of the ordinary. So 
they sat stolidly in the ante-room, apparently 
regardless of the sardonic grins of the demon 
guard, till presently they were told to follow 
the messenger, and at last found themselves 
in the presence of the dreaded Shin ten DojL 

He stood upon a dais at the upper end of 
a great apartment, and on die lower floor at 
each side was ranged Iris personal guard of 
demons. He appeared in his usual waking 
guise of a great hoy, clad in Chinese garb, 
and lie rested upon the shoulders of two pages, 
also in Chinese costume. His smooth 
countenance was nevertheless very terrible 
as he demanded angrily to know the reason 
of the priests' visit. 

Raiko and his m n, sitting respectfully at 
the lower end of the room, bowed low, 

with their 

foreheads to the ground. 


are a small company of pilgrims, O Prince/' 
answered Raiko, "and for many days have 
we wandered in unknown ways about this 
country, seeing no man, and much oppressed 
by the toil of travel, Ky good fortune have 
we come upon the gate of this your castle 
and palace, and we throw ourselves upon 
your worship's honourable hospitality, beg- 
ging the rest and refreshment that are never 
refused to the poor Yama-bushi, more 
especially by so great a Prince as yourself." 

41 Truly you shall have our hospitality," 
answered the Shiuten Doji, in a great voice. 
" Truly you shall have the hospitality you 
deserve, every man of you — the hospitality 
that has been given every man, woman, or 
child that has come within my gates since 
they were built." And being minded to 
divert himself with the poor priests ere he 
added them to his list of victims, he called 
aloud that a feast should be prepared, and 
that the best the castle could produce should 
be laid before the guests, to whom he would 
do honour by eating and drinking with them* 

So the seeming priests, having removed 
their packs and placed them within easy 
reach, took their seats to receive such enter- 
tainment as the ogre might give them. First 
he caused to be placed before Raiko a dish 
which he announced as the choicest to be 
procured in that country, and his own 
favourite. And behold, when the cover was 
removed there lay before the knight a human 
leg, bleeding and ghastly ! But neither Raiko 
nor one of his squires gave any sign of 
disgust or horror, and the ogre, waiting to 
enjoy the panic which he had expected to 
see among them, was surprised to observe 
the apparent relish with which the chief of 




the priests feigned 
to devour his por- 
tion of the loaih- 
some food, 
" Come," cried the 
giant, " I see you 
are better men than 
I thought, you 
priests, and not so 
squeamish as I ex- 
pected. We will 
drink together" 

The horrible 
feast went on 5 the 
demon attendants 
waiting on the 
Shiuten Doji and 
his guests, and the 
warriors, showing 
ment or fear, still 
making pretence to 
eat and drink T till 
at last Kaiko, bow- 
ing low before the ogre, said, u O Prince, your 
humble servants and guests have had such a 
feast as never before was set before them. 
We are poor, and can never make an 
adequate return, but we have a secret in the 
preparation of hot wine that makes it a drink 
truly fit for a great Prince, and we beg to be 
allowed to show our skill/' 

Now, there was nothing in the world thnt 
the Shiuten Doji loved beyond strong drink, 
and he called aloud for bake, the Japanese 
wine made from rice. And as the fragments 
of the feast were cleared away the sake" was 
brought, and the ogre, dismissing his pages, 
was waited on by two beautiful captives, two 
of the many noble ladies whom he had taken 
in his forays, The adventurers made hot 


the sake, pouring into it the powerful drug 
given them by the good Spirit of Sumiyoshi, 
and when he had tasted it the ogre pro- 
nounced it the best drink that had ever been 
offered him* 

So began an orgie in which the Shiuten 
Doji and bis demon retainers drank copiously 
and recklessly, while Raiko and his com- 
panions cautiously kept themselves sober, 
and drank none of the sake that was drugged 
Dances were called for, and after one of the 
demons had exhibited his ^kill, the Squire 
Sadamicbi performed a brilliant measure, 
amid great applause. But all this while the 
drug was working, and presently the Shiuten 
Doji was hopelessly drunk, and was carried 
away by his attendant demons. The adven- 


by KjiC 





turers still plied the remaining re- 
tainers, till at last every demon in the 
place was completely overcome, and 
fell helpless, 

All this the heroes had done because 
they knew not what magical enchant- 
ments were at the hand of the ogre, 
and they were resolved that he should 
have no opportunity of so exercising 
them as to be able ever to continue 
his career of murder. And now they 
revealed themselves to the captive 
ladies, and, opening the packs they 
had been carrying, armed themselves 

The ladies, rejoiced to know that 
deliverers were at hand, led the little 
band past the sleeping guards tin J 
pointed out the chamber in which the 
ogre lay asleep. And here, as they 
approached the sliding-door, they saw 
before them once again the white- 
haired elder, the tutelary Spirit of 

14 Greeting once more, O Raiko ! " 
said the Spirit. " Truly thou hast 
done well, and I give thee my blessing 
now that thou goest to accomplish the 
end of thy purpose. But thou must 
know that the Shiuten Doji has a 
body of magical strength, and full of 
venom like a snake. So that though 
he be mortally hurt yet shall he live 
active and evil for a little while and 
poisonous to all he may wound. 
Wherefore take tins my third gift— 
an enchanted cord. Tie him w^ll 
with this while yet he sleeps and he 
shall be helpless." 

So Raiko made obeisance to the 
Spirit and took the enchanted cord, 
and with his squires entered the mon- 
ster's chamber* And now they saw 
the Shiuten Doji as he lay asleep, 
most wonderful to behold. For he 
was a great, hairy giant, far greater 
than he had seemed in his waking 
guise, tusked and homed and terrible, 
all of the colour of burning flame, and 
with the head of a demon. And round 
about him were many fair ladies, 
noble captives who saw with joy the 
coming of the adventurers in their 
armour, with their two-handed swords, 
heavy as lead and sharp as razors- 
First, remembering the warning of 
the tutelary Spirit, the squires, under 
Kaiko's direction, secured the ogre 
with cords, fastening him to the pillars 
Original from 




of the apartment. And, this being done, 
Raiko with one slash of his great sword 
struck off the horrible head. Then it was 
seen that the words of the Spirit of Sumi- 
yoshi were true. For the great head sprang 
into the air, gnashing its teeth and spouting 
blood, and flew down upon the head of 
Raiko,* burying its terrible tusks in his 
helmet, and for the moment bearing the 
hero to his knee. But though the fangs 
pierced the hardened steel of the helmet the 
magic cap beneath was impenetrable, and 
so the gift of the good Spirit saved Raiko, 
More, as the head was struck off, the whole 
gigantic body turned and writhed, snapping 
every cord except the enchanted rope given 
by the good Spirit. But that held fast, and 
instantly the squires sprang upon the body, 
slashing it to pieces with their sharp swords, 
while the poor ladies ran in horror from the 
terrible scene. So was the Shi uteri Doji 
slain, and the body so cut and dismem- 
bered that it could do no mischief. 

Now, the terrible noise of this struggle 
awakened the demon guards, who rushed in 
helter-skelter upon Raiko and his men. 
But Raiko, flinging away his broken helmet, 
though still wearing bis magic cap, met the 
captain of the demons as he came, and 
clove his head to the chin with a stroke of 
his sword ; and the sijuires made great play 
with their long swords among the rest. 
Watanabe no Tsuna, Raiko's first and best- 
beloved squire, who had helped him kill 
the Demon Spider years before, cut one 
hideous devil in two across the waist, while 
Suyetak£ and Sadamichi the dancer each 
brought down a demon with the terrible 
stroke that falls between neck and shoulder 
and cleaves the body to the opposite side; 
and the others, with similar feats of swords- 
manship, overthrew the enemies opposed to 
them. And so the fight raged furiously, the 
half-dozen warriors maintaining their ground 
unflinchingly, and striking down the demons 
one after another as they came running into 
the fray. Till, after a long struggle and many 
wounds, the whole demoniac guard lay dead. 

Then the heroes sought the dungeons 
where the ogre had kept his captives, and 
after a long search they came upon a fearful 
place where there were caves round about, 
and where the ground was strewed with 
skulls and bones. Guarding this place they 
found the last two of the demons, greater 
and more formidable than the rest. But 

* In the illustration the head is shown twice* oiice in the 
air t and once hiiing at R&iko n s head; the expedient b 
aJi-'ptcd hy the artist to tell the story completely. 

Original from 




these they captured alive and bound securely, 
thinking to use them as guides to such dun- 
geons as might otherwise lie undiscovered. But 
now some of the captive ladies, seeing the last 
of the demons rendered harmless, came for- 
ward and conducted the gallant band through 
the caves, which were places more horrible 
than ever human eyes had beheld before, piled 
high with the bodies of hundreds of murdered 
people and littered everywhere with bones. 
So horrified were the adventurers at what they 
saw that they were impatient to return and 
kill the two remaining demons, that none 
should live a minute longer who had been 
concerned in crimes so fearful And so at 
lust, when every place had been explored 
and every wretched prisoner still alive re- 
leased, they went and struck off the two 
demons' heads. 

And this was the end of the ogre and his 
band. Taking the head of the Shi u ten Doji 
with them, and the heads also of the chief 
among his demons, Raiko and his squires 

returned in triumph to the Imperial city, 
bringing with them the noble ladies who had 
been rescued ; and everywhere on the 
mountainous road where the passes were 
difficult or dangerous the Spirit of Sumiyoshi 
walked before them, leading them in the 
safest paths. 

Of the Emperor's gratitude and of the 
rewards with which he loaded Raiko and his 
men there is little need to tell. The illumi- 
nated roll from which the illustrations have 
been taken describes a triumphal procession, 
and sets forth the honours at great length* 
The valiant Raiko lived to a great age — over 
a hundred — and died in peace, honoured 
tli rough all Japan. The actual date of his 
death was the year 1021 of our era, and the 
slaying of the Shiuten Doji is said to have 
taken place in 947. It is probable that in 
reality the ogre vvlis merely some powerful 
and cruel robber chief whom Raiko over- 
came, and the story has gained its super- 
natural embroidery in course of tradition. 


by V_ 




The Scrap - Book of Hans Christian Andersen. 


From a Pn*rta, bv Hansen * Walker 

and treasured all over the 
world, and he himself on 
terms of friendship with 
almost every distinguished 
person of his time. His 
father was a poor shoe- 
maker, who, however, had 
not been without his crav- 
ing for adventure, inas- 
much as he had enlisted 
and fought in the wars of 
the great Napoleon, re- 
turning with blighted 
hopes and broken health 
to die when Hans was 
only a little boy. His 
widow earned a livelihood 
by washing for people, 
Hut Hans did not want 
to become an artisan; he 
frit he was meant for 
something better and 
greater; he wrote poetry 
and was fond of acting. 
After his confirmation he 

OES it not seem the most 
natural thing in the world 
that Hans Christian Ander- 
sen should leave behind 
him a scrap-book of unique 
charm and interest? This 
scrap-book is a very large folio, bound in 
a much- worn green cover, with, I think* 
about 1 12 leaves in various colours, 
white, pink, grey, blue, green, mauve, 
full of autographs, letters, portraits, 
drawings in pen and pencil, coloured 
pictures, printed matter, dried flowers, 
elaborate cuttings in paper, cartes de 
visile, etc., mementos of the most illus- 
trious men and women o\ the century. 

The words which Andersen has written 
under the accompanying photograph of 
himself, taken in his study, "Life itself 
is the most beautiful fairy tale/' could 
not have been more felicitously chosen — 
for to him, at least, life did prove a won- 
derful and delightful fairy tale* Born at 
Odense, in the Island of Fuhnen, on 
April 2nd, 1805, in a poor and humble 
home, lie died, having reached the three- 
score years and ten, the possessor of the 
highest Danish title, decorated with 
orders innumerable, his works known 

by Google 

*C &£>&. JLis^/vjf hf*h* J£u*«jt. H^flT 

/fms*4 &£*-* * **-. &^*€c*isJ 


Original from 





has reference to an amateur 
performance, of which the scrap- 
book likewise contains the pro- 
gramme. It was a "strictly 
private representation " given 
at the Gallery of Instruction, 
Regent Street, Saturday evening, 
July 4th, 1857, at nine o'clock. 
The performance, " under the 
management of Mr. Charles 

left the maternal home to try his luck in 
Copenhagen, an awkward, gawky, and 
lanky lad. He must, however, have had 
wonderful faith in himself, for he called 
upon a number of literary and dramatic 
celebrities, before whom he, generally un- 
asked, recited his verses or performed 
some of his dancing. People as a rule 
were inclined to think him a little off his 
head, but there were a few who formed a 
more correct conception of the strange 
young fellow. He succeeded in being 
accepted as a pupil at the Royal Theatre, 
appeared in a few minor parts, but soon 
found out that he and the stage were 
hardly suited to each other. Through thq 
assistance of friends he now began to go 
to school, eventually passing the students' 
examination in 1828. Five years later he 
was allowed to have his first peep at the 
great world, visiting Germany, France, 



Dickens," comprised " an en- 
tirely new romantic drama, 
1 The Frozen Deep/ by Wilkie 
Collins " — Charles Dickens, 
Alfred Dickens, Wilkie Collins, 
and Shirley Brooks being 
amongst the actors, the ladies 

Switzerland, and Italy. 
In after years he be- 
came a great traveller, 
of which his scrap-book 
bears testimony. 

There are several 
letters from Charles 
Dickens, who calls him 
" Dear Hans Ander- 
sen," signing himself 
" Affectionately and 
cordially " in one letter 
and in another " With 
admiration and re- 
gard " ; also one from 
Wilkie Collins, which 




k*H* { 




Unginal from 


y^^^4^* \£t a«7*3« j ^-'w-^ 

Sand f "Venez 
a 2 h. — t cher 

Lord Pal- 
mer st on writes 
in French : " I 
shall have 
much pleasure 
in seeing the 
Andersen this 
evening. A 
thousand com- 

The contri- 
bution of Alex- 
andre Dumas 
consists of a 
fiery quotation 


performing being only down with their 
Christian names— and "Two o'Clock in 
the Morning," in which Charles Dickens 
played Mr. Snobbingtons part* 

Eleven years later Wilkie Collins writes 
to his "dear Andersen/' saying that with 
reference to producing t( The Frozen Deep" 
there is only one copy in existence ; it had 
never been published for fear that it might 
gel on to the public stage and do harm 
with the public by bad acting. He writes : 
* L In the present deplorable state of our 
stage there is neither actor nor actress ior 
the two principal parts in ' The Frozen 

Deep/ w 

The entry by Sir Walter Scott Is interest- 
ing from the fact that he signs himself 
" affectionately "—a striking proof of the 
warm feeling which existed between the 
two great writers. 

Jenny Lind lias written under her por- 
trait two lines in German, here given, 
which mean, being interpreted : " Art and 
Religion were given to men to show them 
the way to another life." One letter, in 
which she asks him to 
come and dine with her 
and her husband, she 
has signed *' With true 
friendship, yours sin- 
cerely," and another, 
tc Your sincere sister, 
Jenny-" The great 
Rachel writes in April, 
1843 : '* VAxt, cest le 
Vrai ! " and Georges 


p 0* 


% 9*#~~/r& 





from one of his 

The drawing 
by the famous 
German artist 
Karlbach illus- 
trates Ander- 
sen's story of 
" The Frogs 
and the 


'X+4 % %* m 

>6 j£~-* 




tepgplfe ^gi^^f^ 





J... 3jC &£>—<* — ^ *^J^7 



# w ./*£. #w 


Thorvaldsen, from whom there are some 
charming drawings, one of which, an excellent 
example, is here reproduced, urges his " dear 
Andersen," in a letter of October 17th, 1840, 
to cheer up and not to leave Denmark. From 


Heinrich Heine there are several letters and 
verses, amongst them a motto written at 
Leipsic in 1846 : — 

Alter Mahrchen neuer Sinn, 
Neuer Mahrchen alter Wahrheit. 

Victor Hugo's 

~~~ entry, a quota- 

tion from one of 
his own poems, 
is a marvel of 
illegibility and 
might be set as 
a puzzle. It 
deciphers as 
follows :— 

Heureux qui peut 
aimer ! — on qui, 
danslanuit noire, 

Tout en chcrchant 
la foi, peut ren- 
contrer l'amour. 

II a du moins la 
lampe en atten- 
dant le jour. 

Heureux en cceur ! 
Aimer, c'est le 
moitid de croire. 



part of Goethe's 
English version is: 
"All that is tran- 
sient is but a 

has written in 
German upon the 
piece of music 
shown in the 
facsimile : "To 
the Poet Ander- 
sen, with venera- 
tion and esteem." 

Meyerbeer con- 
tributes a setting 
of the song the 
words of which 
signify in Eng- 
lish :" When I rise 
from the slumber 


whose name 
is Death/' fol- 
lowed by his 
signature with 
the inscription : 
"To H e r r 
Andersen, in 
friendly remem- 

There are in- 
numerable por- 
traits with auto- 
graphs, many 
views of places 
dear to Ander- 
s e n , many 
quaint relics, 
and touching 
signs of admira- 
tion and affec- 
tion from almost 
every part of 
Europe. An 
amusing docu- 
ment is a Bul- 
letin de Sant£ 
for Andersen, 
issued at Con- 
stantinople, 3 
Avi, 1 84 1, form- 
ing a strange sequel to the passport armed 
with which he set out in the world some 
twenty-two years previously, and of which 
we reproduce a facsimile. 

Verily, for Andersen life became a beauti- 
ful fairy tale. 


Many famous composers have contributed 
music, amongst them being Schumann, Men- 
delssohn, Meyerbeer, and others. 

Schumann's music, which is here repro- 
duced, is a setting of a song from the second 

Faust," of which the 


;J$Z~+ /Sty*** c^W^> 

•fVrxt, of 

Gjfic vtac&gt, « 

//JUrvrnmcl. fo& x "**&& fabr 

af Bygatng, Tur tbir. Oine 

after nu a* mse her&a Stadcrt til fyyXfcf&f"' r*~~- 

Min tjeastltge Begering er til aJIe og enhver, torn bemddte 

matte fonOtomme, at de-^f„ paa denne R,el$e ubehindret "rilde lade passcre. 

Oaense Politlekammcr oea>y v^^^rtr^-BaoL pc/*"-*" &&<&*& 



« 1* I Bfm «m ] C-f H Ttav. 




3t£y? ,<. 



by Google 

Original from 

R. STAFFORD wishes to 
speak with you for a moment, 

The Editor of the Thun- 
derer raised his evebrows. 
Having reflected for a 
moment, he said that Mr, Stafford might be 
shown in. 

Sixty seconds later a young man entered 
the room. He was a tall, thin young 
man, with a remarkably well-shaped fore- 
head, a determined chin, and an intro- 
spective look in his eyes. It was this look, 
and what it meant, that the Editor dis- 
approved. He was also alive to the fact — 
not unconnected, in his opinion, with the 
other — that Mr. Stafford's frock-coat, though 
carefully preserved, had been worn through 
several seasons. 

" Good dayV said the great man. " I am 
sorry for this, Mr, Stafford; but really it 
could not be helped, in the circumstances." 

The man who was not great appeared sur- 
prised. " I beg your pardon ? " said he, 

u I supposed that you had come to speak 
with me about the — er— the change in your 
position. But " 

t( No, sir. For the moment I had forgotten 
that I had been dismissed. You see, I was 

thinking in any event of resigning my berth 
on the Thunderer* I didn't suit it : it didn't 
suit me, though I have much kindness and 
consideration from you and all the members 
of the staff to be grateful for. What 1 came 
to see you about this evening was quite 
another matter, though also personal" 

Perhaps the Editor of the most important 
newspaper in England was to be pardoned if 
he did not entirely believe that the young 
man had intended of his own accord to throw 
away the enviable position which had been 
his. Still, almost anything eccentric might 
be credited of Robert Stafford. The great 
man glanced at his watch. "I have still 
five minutes, which I can spare you with 
pleasure/ 1 he said, "After that, I am 
afraid— " 

" Five minutes will do, sir,'* said the young 
man. "It is a mere question of 'yes* or 
1 no.* I want to marry your daughter.' 1 

"Good heavens, you must be out of your 
senses ! n exclaimed the Editor. 

" If to be very much in love fs to be out 
of one's senses, I plead guilty." 

11 Good heavens ! " remarked the Editor 
again, " What confounded business is this ? 
I had no idea that you had met my daughter 
except at the .one evening party I believe 
vou were invited to, at my house." 



" That was the first time I saw her. I 
knew what I wanted from that moment, but 
I didn't see much chance of getting it." 

"Ah! And now you do? Having just 
teen discharged on account of incompetency 
from the post you held on my paper, and 
having no other prospects so far as I know, 
you take the opportunity of coming to me 
and proposing to marry my daughter, whom 
you seem to have continued to meet in 
some underhand way." 

" You hardly state the case fairly, sir — 
certainly not from her side. She visits rather 
often at the house of an aunt of mine, Mrs. 
D'Arcy, where I also have been in the habit 
of going when I could get away from work. 
As for your accusation that I have acted in 
an underhand way, I deny it, and assert the 
contrary. I came to you before speaking to 
your daughter. I wished to tell you some- 
thing about myself which might make you 
look at my future differently. I " 

Ai Have you come into a fortune ? " The 
question was asked drily. 

"No, sir." 

" You expect to do so ? " 

" Not quite that." 

" What then ? Some mad scheme of 
yours ? " 

" You might call it mad, sir." 

"If you think I might, I am certain I 
should, so we won't waste time in discussing 
it, if you please. I shall regard it as a most 
dishonourable act if you attempt to disturb 
ray daughter's mind with this nonsense, and 
I depend upon you not to do so." 

"Not without your consent. May I ask 
whether your objection is only to my lack of 
prospects, or is it also personal ? " 

The Editor looked at the young man criti- 
cally through his pince-nez. " My sole 
objection to you personally is that you are 
mad," he replied. 

44 A number of persons who eventually 
proved successful were called mad in their 
time," returned Mr. Stafford. 

£ * They happened to be geniuses." 

The young man smiled at the emphasis. 

** If you were not mad, and if you had an 
income of ten thousand a year, you might 
come to me again and ask for my daughter," 
said the Editor of the Thunderer, " Then, 
I should be inclined to give you a different 
answer. You cannot cite such an income ? " 

" Not to-day," admitted Mr. Stafford. 

" Then, for to-day, shall we consider the 
subject closed ? Another day, when you 
can re-open it on the basis I suggest — my 

daughter being at that time still unmarried — 


call on me again and remind me of this 

" Thank you ; I will." Mr. Stafford rose, 
took the large white hand which his former 
" chief," with returning good nature in the 
twinkle of his eye, patronizingly held out, and 

The interview had occupied very little 
more than the allotted five minutes ; never- 
theless, it filled the Editor's thoughts more 
than once during his working hours. Several 
times he ejaculated " By Jove ! " without 
any apparent relevance. Once or twice he 
frowned and once or twice he laughed. 

Next morning at breakfast he gazed at his 
exceedingly pretty daughter with reflective 
eyes. She would be a considerable heiress, 
but was so popular and charming that no 
man need be suspected of wanting her for 
what she would have rather than for what 
she was. A number of men had wanted her, 
and were probably wanting her at the present 
time. Almost any one among these appli- 
cants, selected at random, would be more 
eligible than Robert Stafford. The Editor 
did not think that there was a man in 
England, under Royal rank, who need look 
down upon this lovely and lovable young 

He marvelled at Stafford's impudence, but 
failed to admire it. For a moment he 
meditated speaking to the motherless girl 
about what had occurred, and putting one or 
two questions; but on second thoughts he 
decided to hold his peace and to watch. 
He did watch — as much as so busy and 
important a man was able — but saw nothing 
to excite alarm. One day he heard at the 
office that young Stafford had gone abroad, 
and gradually he forgot all about him. 

So, more than a year passed. On a very 
hot night in early September, when things 
were just beginning to happen after the lull 
of the " Silly Season," the Editor was hard 
at work. There was still a great deal to do 
for which he was responsible ; he was tired, 
irritable, and anxious to get home. Into the 
midst of this mood came a messenger with a 
card. The Editor looked at it impatiently. 
44 Stafford, Stafford," he repeated twice before 
the name took a particular meaning for him. 
When it did, he flung the card aside with an 
uncomplimentary exclamation. 

" Confound his impudence," he muttered. 
" Like the fellow's cheek to come at all, 
especially at this time of night when he 
knows I'm busiest. Go, tell this gentle- 
man " — to the messenger — " that I can't see 

U 1 1 I U I I I _' 


1 66 


"Yes, sir," responded the messenger. 
" He said his business was very urgent, sir, 
or I wouldn't have " 

'* Hang his business ; it ? s nothing to rue," 
was the answer, extorted by impatience ; and 
the messenger waited for no more. 

After some moments of work the Editor 
hurriedly opened his door and strode out, 
with a long proof fluttering from his hand. 
He had taken a step or two down the 
corridor off which opened the rooms used 
by sub-editors, leader-writers, and reporters , 
when a voice — once familiar, now all but 
forgotten — hailed him. 

There was Stafford, as quiet, as pale, the 
lower part of his face as deter- 
mined, the upper part as dreamy 
as ever. The poor man had put 
himself in the great man's path, 
and the chief, too angry, too com- 
pletely dum founded to speak or 
move, was taken at a momentary 

Stafford had his watch in his 
hand. It was a cheap Waterbury 
watch ; and his frock-coat looked 
as if it might have been the 
frock-coat of last year. "Good 
evening, sir," he said to the 
Editor. "Pardon my lying in 
wait for you like this, but it's a 
matter of grave importance, Will 
you tell me the exact time by 
your watch ? " 

" Let me pass, sir," commanded 
the Editor of the Thunder rr, " or 
it will he time to have you shown 
the way downstairs," 

4t I inquired because just half 
an hour ago the Sultan died in 
Yildiy: Kiosk — very suddenly. 
Poison is suspected, but it will 
probably be given out that 
death was the result of a 
stroke. The news will be kept 
from the people in Constanti- 
nople for some hours, and it 
won't get over the wires to 
London until the Thunderer and all the 
other papers have gone to press. No morn- 
ing pa per— except yours, now that I've told 
you— can print the news, though of course 
to-morrow's evening papers will have it. 
Now, if you put it in, with the biography 
you of course have standing in type, you'll 
have about the biggest 'scoop' that's ever 
been done." 

11 1 always thought you were mad," said 
the Editor. " Now I know it. Mr. Stafford, 

Digitized by Vji 

this is my busiest time. I'm in no mood for 
practical jokes. Have the kindness to leave 
this office, where yon had no right to force 
yourself in," 

" Allow me to point out that you are 
making a grave mistake, sir," persisted 
Stafford, provokingly unruffled. "But I 
have done my best to give you a good thing. 
You won't Tell me the time by your watch ? 
Then pray look at mine. Half-past eleven, 
English, That's nine -thirty in Constanti- 
nople. You will have cause to remember 
that to-morrow," He bowed and, turning, 
walked away. 

" Of all the lunatics ! " ejaculated the great 


man, glaring after the erect figure* departing 
with the air of a banished prince. And as 
the Editor was putting on his hat to go 
home, after seeing the paper to press* he 
mentioned to the: assistant -editor, who 
remembered the discharged "sub" very well, 
the unexpected call and the absurd nature of 
Stafford's errand, 

" 4 Much learning hath made him mad/" 
quoted the assistant, He also said that in 
his opini^q .if Stafford came again it would 




be well to send for the police, as such fellows 
really ought not to be at large. 

Next day the Editor of the Thundtrtr 
slept late. As he was walking to keep a 
luncheon engagement at the Carlton Club 
he stared with astonishment at the 
contents bill of an evening journal just 
out, which in huge lines announced: 
"Sudden Death of the Sultan." 

He bought the paper and hastily 
opened it, 

"Died of an apoplectic stroke," he 
read, " at half past - nine at night 
Unavailing efforts to restore animation. 
Poison suggested, but official an- 
nouncement that the cause of 
death was apoplexy. News not 
made known publicly until this 

The Editor whistled to himself 
as he folded up tht: paper. At 
the Carhon everybody was talking 
of the event, and he was condoled 
with because the news had come 
too late to appear in the Thunderer 
as well as the lesser morning 

About five o'clock the Editor 
met his assistant at the office 
for the usual daily consultation, 
The two looked at each other 

**Tve told the printer to put 
tie Sultan's obituary in page," 
said the younger man. 

i+ Certainly; quite right," re- 
turned the chief, 

U A little odd about that mad- 
man, Stafford^ began the assistant, 

''Coincidence; mere coincidence, A 
ludcy guess, that's all" The Editor waved 
Ac affair away with a sweep of the hand, 
though be thought of it all the same, and 
wondered in his heart what the world would 
have been saying to-day if the great Thunder tr % 
alone among the dailies, had printed the 

At midnight Stafford's card was handed 

to the Editor while his assistant was 

room. The "chief" passed it 

latter with a short, perplexed 

" See him and hear what be has 

It can't be in the least important. 

hour ago in Gatschina," He smiled a little 
uneasily. The Editor stared. 

u He says that ? " he asked. 

The assistant nodded, "Yes; and he 
asked me particularly to note the time/' 

in the 
to the 
to say 

In five minutes the assistant-editor came 
tack and closed the door carefully, "The 
Czarina has had a child T prematurely — a boy 
this time," he announced, "born half an 



The Editor pushed back his chair and 
took a hasty turn up and down the room. 
"Why, it's pure bosh," he exclaimed, petu- 
lantly. " We should make ourselves the 
laughing-stock of Europe to print news like 
that if it wasn't true. And how can it be 
true? It's too absurd. This fellow wants 
to take us in and play a trick upon us for 
being dismissed. How can he possibly know 
what happened in Russia half an hour ago, 
when our own correspondent hasrVt wired, 
when there's nothing from any of the news 
agencies ? He made a lucky gues<i last night, 
and is playing on that." 

The paper was sent to press as usual ; the 
Editor went home, and the foreign editor who 
stayed an hour later in case anything of great 
importance should happen was about to 
follow him, when there came a telegram 


1 68 


announcing the birth of an heir to the 
Russian Throne. The machines were 
stopped, a page altered, and part of the 
issue of next morning's Thunderer contained 
the tidings. All the other morning papers 
had it also. 

It was the Editor's custom to have a copy 
of the Thunderer brought to his bedside 
every morning with the other leading dailies. 
Before he got up he used to run through 
them all Opening his own paper first, he 
could hardly believe his eyes when he saw 
the announcement with large headlines of 
the birth of the Russian heir. 

"What on earths Lht_ j meaning of this? 1 ' 
he said to him- 
self "Can my 
people have been 
fools enough to 
believe that im- 
postor and put 
this stuff in as 
soon as my hack 
was turned?" 
Then he hastily 
opened the other 
papers, and was 
startled to see 
that they also 
contained the 
same important 
item of news. 
"Can he have 
hoaxed the lot of 
them ?" thought 
the Editor, as he 
tubbed and 
dressed with 
more than his 
usual haste, 
" Can he have 
run round to all 
the offices in a 
cab, and induced 
them to believe 
his story? And 
have they all 
been fools enough to trust him ? " 

The Editor's beautiful daughter was vastly 
astonished when her father hurriedly left 
home without breakfast. He took a swift 
cab, drove direct to Marlborough House, 
and was astonished into speechlessness on 
being assured that the happy event had un- 
doubtedly happened, in the course of the pre- 
ceding night, at about the hour of half-past 
eleven, English time, adding that the King 
had been waked soon after one in the morn- 
ing to have the telegram handed to him, 


The Editor walked to his club, thinking 
deeply, and it was with some embarrassment 
that he exchanged greetings with his assistant 
about five o'clock at the office. 

t( Have we the address of that young man, 
Stafford?" asked the li chief/' "It— er— 
might, perhaps, be worth while to send for 
and question him." 

11 1 have tried already to find him 3 " said 
the assistant, "but without success. He 
left no address when he called, and they 
know nothing at the lodgings he occupied 
more than a year ago when he was on the 



^f'l^iilWO — 


before midnight, when the 
pages would soon be passed 
finally for press^ the great 
Editor was amazed at him- 
self to find that he was be- 
coming u n accou n t a bl y 
fidgety. It was 
with a distinct 
sense of relief 
that he took 
from the hand 
of a messenger 
a card bearing 
the name, '* Mr. 
Robert Stafford/' 
"Show him in," 
said the Editor, 
promptly, and 
the young man 
entered with a 
grave bow and 
a courteous 
u Good evening, 

"You bring 
me, no doubt, 
some wonderful 
piece of news, 
Mr, Stafford ? " 
questioned the 
" chief, 7 ' with an air of condescend- 
l ' ABTLT ing jocularity, '* What is it to- 
night? The death of a great 

man, the discovery of the North Pole n 

"My news to-night is certainly serious, M 
replied the young man. " There is a rising 
en masse of the negroes of the Southern 
States against the whites, It has been 
secretly planned for months. A horrible 
massacre has begun ; great parts of Alabama 
and Georgia are in the hands of the blacks. 
They first seized the telegraph offices and 

cut the wires " 

" Then, if the wires were cut to begin with, 
how can you know anything of what has 




taken place ? " The Editor leaned forward 
and glared severely at the young man as he 
launched his crushing question. " Come, 
come, sir ; this won't do ! You go too fast ! 
That twice already you have successfully 
tampered with telegraph clerks, bribing them 
to give you early information, I can under- 
stand — such things have been done before, 
though it's a risky game and a -felony ; but 
that you should come here pretending to 
know what is happening three thousand 
miles away, in the Southern States of 
America, when by your own confession you 
admit the wires are cut and the districts 

isolated " He broke off abruptly and 

pressed an electric bell upon his table. A 
messenger came at once. " I wish to cable 
to New Orleans ; telephone immediately to 
set if the wire's open." The Editor sat 
frowning and drumming with a paper-knife 
on the table, casting now and then 
a suspicious glance at his visitor, who 
stood calmly examining the pattern of the 
wall-paper. With a quick knock the mes- 
senger returned. " They can only take the 
cable at your risk, sir," he announced. 
"There's some unexplained interruption at 
the other end." The Editor dismissed him 
with a nod, rose to the full height of his 
imposing figure, and faced his visitor. 

"Your extraordinary story seems so far 
confirmed," he said. " Kindly give me some 
further particulars." 

44 1 do not know many details yet," was the 
quiet answer, "though further information 
will reach me soon. I can only tell you 
that the blacks are well armed, that there has 
been fighting in the streets in many places; 
that a gigantic negro named Joe Paterson, 
formerly a railway-shunter, seems to be the 
leading spirit ; that whites have been merci- 
lessly butchered in the remoter districts, to 
the number of many hundreds." 

14 1 should be mad to print all this without 
the least indication as to how you received 
the intelligence." 

The hint fell on stony ground. "As you 
will, sir." Stafford moved towards the door 
with the calm bearing of a Galileo before 
the council. The Editor had a deep know- 
ledge of human nature, and the confident 
fire in the introspective eyes caused him a 
certain discomfort. 

"Stay!" Stafford turned on the thres- 
hold. " I will publish something of this 
wonderful story," relented the chief; then, 
bis scepticism re-awakening, he wagged a 
threatening forefinger. "But if you are 

deceiving me, mind, I shall have no mercy 

on you — none ! " The young man smiled 
serenely, bowed to the forefinger, and de- 

Next morning the Editor waked at an un- 
usually early hour with all his faculties on 
the stretch. Sitting up in bed, he opened 
the Thunderer and read the few cautious 
words in a conspicuous position of the middle 
page : " As we go to press a rumour reaches 
us of a rising of negroes in some of the 
Southern States of the Union, accompanied 
by sanguinary acts of violence. It is said 
that the rebellion has been long planned and 
has already attained alarming dimensions. 
The rumour is unconfirmed, and we publish 
it with all reserve." Not one of the other 
morning papers had any reference to the 

All day the Editor went about in a mood 
of apprehension. At his club he was bom- 
barded with questions ; the contents bills of 
an evening paper bore in large letters the 
words : " Alarming statement in the 
Thunderer. Is it a hoax ? " and when he 
reached his office he found that the American 
Ambassador and a messenger from the 
Foreign Office had been among the many 
callers to inquire into the extraordinary 
rumour. As the night wore on, to the 
selfish but infinite relief of the Editor, 
telegrams began to arrive confirming in the 
fullest particulars the details which Stafford 
had supplied the night before. Refugees 
fleeing to the sea-coast and into neighbouring 
States carried with them wild tales of a savage 
uprising of the oppressed blacks, of an 
awful revenge that was being taken for bloody 
acts of Lynch-law. United States troops 
were moving with all speed to the scene ; but 
precise facts were difficult to obtain owing to 
the continued interruption of the wires. The 
Editor wiped his forehead, with a sigh of 
divided emotions. The Thunderer had had 
its " scoop " ; but how much more dramatic- 
ally complete would have been its success if 
he had dared to give in full, and with assur- 
ance, all the particulars with which Stafford 
had furnished him. In short, the Editor 
wished that he had "gone nap." 

He found himself longing for midnight. 
For the last three nights midnight and a visit 
from Stafford had been synonymous. But 
this time the rule was broken. Midnight 
came and no Stafford. The "chief" made 
excuses for stopping late at the office, but 
at length he had to go home with a vague 
sense of flatness and disappointment. He 
was annoyed with himself for his neglect in 
not having secured .the mysterious young 




man's address when he called last, though, of 
course, it would not have done to seem 
anxious ; and he visited his annoyance on the 

Another day passed and still Stafford made 
no sign, A halfpenny daily published a bit 
of exclusive news, and the great man asked 
himself if the finger of his discharged u sub" 
was in it, 

" I wonder if we've lost Stafford ? " casually 
remarked the assistant on the third night. 
The Editor shrugged his shoulders as if the 
matter were of no importance, but he had 
never liked his subordinate less ; and, at 
home and in bed, he dreamed of missing 
Stafford and a piece of news of world-wide 
importance. With this dream in his mind 
he somewhat shamefacedly gave orders that 
if Mr. Stafford should call that night he was 
to be at once shown in, Expecting the call 
he grew quite nervous, and attributed his 
condition to dyspepsia > but he expected in 

On the fifth night, however, he started 
at the sound of a rap on his door as the 
clocks had finished striking twelve, Stafford 
answered his " Come in," and he was only 
just able to restrain an exclamation of u At 
last ! M 

He changed it into a li How do you do ? " 
of marked cordiality, and genially added, 
** I'm glad to see you again." 

"Thank you, sir," replied Stafford. "I 
saw the advertisement 
in the Daily Record^ 
requesting me to call 
at the office of the 

" Oh, indeed — er — 
I wasn't aware — my 
assistant perhaps may 

have thought ?f 

The great man was 
well-nigh reduced to 

" I beg your par- 
don/ 5 said Stafford ; 
" I supposed it pos- 
sible that you wished 
to see me here again, 
and, not having my 
address, had adopted 
that means. Since 

you don't n he 

took a step towards 
the door, but the 
Editor, half rising, 
arrested him with a 

" I do," he admitted. " I do. Come, 
Mr* Stafford, the time for mystery has gone 
by. You have proved your point beyond a 
doubt. Do you want me to believe you a 
magician, or are you ready to explain by 
what method you are able to obtain earlier 
information than newspapers and Govern- 
ments can command ? " 

" I've brought it with me in a cab/ J said 
Stafford, " in case you would like to 
see it." 

£ * In a cab ? " The echo was almost a 
gasp, so extraordinary seemed the announce- 
menL But the Editor controlled himself, 
emulating Stafford's coolness. M Oh, bring 
it in by all means," he murmured, and sank 
back in his chair* 

Stafford went out and was gone for some 
minutes. Presently sounds of heavy foot- 
steps, as of men carrying a burden, reached 
the ears of the *' chief," and an instant later 
Stafford reappeared with a commissionaire- 
Between them they bore a large rosewood 
box, which they placed upon a tabic. When 
the commissionaire had left them alone 
Stafford asked permission to lock the door, 
which was granted. " You know all about 
Marconi ? " he said, with his hand on the box. 
" Well, I've gone one better, that's alL" 

by Google 

OF INTRICATE f**.rcTS.r.£|»Qpj-. 




He lifted the lid from the box, and the 
Editor, curiously excited, found himself peer- 
ing at an apparatus of intricate parts, with 
coiled wires, springs, and an automatic 
printing-machine like that of the familiar 

" Marconi's difficulty," Stafford went 
quietly on, "was in his coherer and relay. 
He used metallic filings in his coherer, which 
was a little tube, you know. He thought 
that the coherence was a sort of absolute 
quantity that was produced in all its com- 
pleteness by the electric impulse. That was 
wrong. I have invented a new coherer " 
(he touched a small upright brass case, with 
an elaborate net-work of vibrating wires), 
"and with this I can receive, practically in- 
stantaneously, electric impulses transmitted 
from no matter what distance. The conver- 
sion of the electric impulses into visible 
writing is, of course, simplicity itself." 

"Still, I don't understand," said the 
Editor. " The electric impulses don't reach 
you by chance. Someone must transmit 
them, and by a machine similar to this. 
Am I not right ? " 

" Perfectly. I patented this machine in 
every European country and in the States 
something less than a year ago, a little while 
after I left the Thunderer. I made no 
public announcement of it at the time, for 
I wanted to give tests that even you could 
not withstand. I have an aunt, Mrs. D'Arcy 
—your daughter's friend — who believes in 
me ; she was the only person who did — and 
she gave me money. I made half a-dozen 
transmitters, and took them to half-a-dozen 
foreign countries. They are in St. Peters- 
burg, in Constantinople, in Berlin, in Paris, 
in New York, in Yokohama, in the hands of 
trustworthy persons all in a position to 
receive early news of important events. 
These persons are paid by me — they are 
ray correspondents." 

"That must cost you something!" mur- 
mured the Editor. 

"It does, but thanks to the machine 
it-self, I am able to afford it. The first test 
I nude was to take advantage of a piece 
of early information I got from Wall 
Street, to go in for a little deal on the 
Stock Exchange. I cleared ^20,000 in a 
couple of days." 

" By Jove ! " exclaimed the great man, 
meditatively, a marvellous vista opening 
before him. 

"Yes. You can quite understand that 
fee field there is practically unlimited ; 
but that isn't much in my line, except 

Digitized by CiOOQ IC 

in special cases. I leave it to those who 
care for it." 

"And the news of the negro rising ! How 
did you get that ? " 

" Chance favoured me there. My New 
York correspondent's a Southerner ; he was 
called South by family business, took his 
transmitter with him, and sent me early 
news. You see this lever ? It disconnects 
the machine. I press it down thus, and the 
apparatus is ready to receive messages." At 
the instant the " ticker " began to work. 
Eagerly the Editor watched the words that 
appeared, transmitted by invisible waves of 
electric energy straight from the Japanese 
capital, passing by the shortest path through 
a great portion of the solid earth itself, 
penetrating unnoticed, unsuspected, through 
brick walls or human bodies, able to record 
themselves on this machine, and on this 
machine only in the whole world, for it alone 
was tuned to vibrate sympathetically with the 
transmitting instrument. 

" Yokohama," the message began. "Grave 
news has just arrived that the Russians 
have landed in force in Korea and have 
captured the capital by a coup de main. 
Intense indignation here. Frenzied crowds 
in the streets. The Japanese Government 
has declared war, and orders for mobiliza- 
tion of the entire forces of the country have 
been issued." Then, suddenly, the ticker 
was still. 

When the business of sending the 
momentous news to press was over, and an 
enormous " scoop " assured for next morn- 
ing's Thunderer (there were to be no doubts, 
no reservations this time), the Editor turned 
to Stafford, who stood thoqghtfully beside his 
closed rosewood box. 

"You're a wonderful fellow — a valuable 
man for England ! " he enthusiastically ex- 
claimed. "Now, how much will you take to 
give the Thunderer the exclusive use of this 
instrument? Shall we say ten thousand a 
year ? " 

" Money does not tempt me as it once 
might — a year ago, for instance," said 

" Twenty thousand, my dear fellow." 

" You see, I can easily make five times 
that sum." 

" But, look here, you came to me. 
You gave me news worth thousands. 
You must have had some object in doing 

" I had." 

"Well?" _ . , 

Original from 




"I wanted to remind you T if I got the 
chance, that you had asked me to call again 
when I could prove that I wasn't mad and 
could make an income of ten thousand a 
year. You said then that when that was the 
case I might refer to a subject you wished 
closed for that day. It has been nearer to 
my heart ever since than anything else. Do 
you remember what it was, sir ? " 

" Good gracious, you wanted to marry my 
daughter! " 

"And do want it, more than ever." 

" Are you driving a bargain with me, my 
boy ? " 

"That would be about it, sir, if only I 
were at all sure of her. She— I think she 
liked me once. But I promised you to say 
nothing without your consent. And that's 
a year ago," 

The Editor stroked his beard + 

" H ? m l if he ejaculated. " I— er— I've had 

\ou a good deal in my mind these last five 
days. I'd never spoken to my daughter 
about you before, but I did mention your 
name yesterday , quite— er — incidentally. I 
told her you were back in town and had 
called at the office." 

" What did she say ? " asked Stafford, a flash 
of eagerness escaping his calm eyelids. 

"She didn't say much, but — she got rather 
red. I never saw her look so pretty. When 
I went out she— kissed me twice, and ran up- 
stairs singing, some love song or other. I 
wondered what made her so demonstrative ; 
she isn't like that as a rule. But— er— if one 
puts two and two together, it strikes me 
there mightn't be any great difficulty in our 
coming to terms. And, by Jove, I should 
be proud, Mr, Stafford, to have you for my 

Stafford held out his hand. The Editor 
shook it 


by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker s Chair. 



ACCORDING to present appear- 
fair ances the next General Election 
trade, is afar off. But, 

as experience in 
1874 and 1880 testifies, 
General Elections sometimes 
come like a thief in the night. 
What will be the main plank 
of the platform on which the 
present Government will stand 
to claim a renewal of office ? 
In 1895 they came in as 
defenders of the Union of 
Great Britain and Ireland. 
Last year they were returned 
to office on the crest of the 
*ave of war in South Africa. 
What next ? 

Aware of the risk of pro- 
phesying " on less you know/ 1 
I, putting it less assertively, 
will say I should not be sur- 
prised to see His Majesty's 
present Government go to the 
country under the flag of Fair Trade* It is 
probable that in such case his colleagues 
must be prepared to part with Sir Michael 
Hicks-Beach. Even that is not an absolute 
necessity. The Chancellor of the Exchequer 
is a stout Free-Trader, but the exigencies of 
the hour have compelled him to put a 
shilling duty on export of coal. That, as 
Mr. Flavin in an oratorical moment would 
say, is opening the door to the thin end of 
the wedge. For the rest His Majesty's 
Ministers, one and all, are 
open to conviction on the 
question of Fair Trade. 

The basis of my own 
suspicion in the matter is 
knowledge of the fact that 
one of the most powerful 
aod persuasive of them is 
already converted- Re- 
numbering bis history 
am! his early personal 
association s, a very start- 
ing conversion it is. But 
■a the present Cabinet 
there have been others to 
equal it. 
fleecing Onhisinstal- 

or THE 


lation the 
new Bishop 
of London 
had his ex- 



by V_ 

peri en ce enlarged in the field of fees. It is a 
high honour to be selected for a seat on the 
Episcopal Bench, The honour 
bestowed, it seems the most 
natural thing in the world to 
take the seat and there an end 
oivL But that is only the 
beginning of it, As everyone 
knows, whilst the gift of a 
Bishopric rests with the Prime 
Minister, the nominee is 
elected by the Bench of 
Bishops. Virtually by com- 
mand of the Sovereign, the 
Crown Office issues a conge 
dklirt. This means money, 
which has to come out of the 
Bishop's pocket The warrant 
costs j£io ; the certificate, 
;£i6 ios, ; letters patent, 
^30; the doequet, 2s. The 
Episcopal Bench, having duly 
elected the nominee of the 
I'rime Minister, return the 
name to the Crown Office and the Royal 
Assent is signified. This involves duplication 
of the charges, with the difference that the 
cost of the certificate is increased by 10s. to 
make it even money. 

Next follows a process known as restitu- 
tion of temporalities. In pursuance of this 
duty the new Bishop is fined £10 for the 
warrant, ^31 10s. 6d, for the certificate, 
^30 for letters patent, and the inevitable 
2s. for the doequet, a hardship only partially 
lightened by spelling the 
word with a " q " and a 
"u." These sums dis- 
bursed, the new Bishop 
reasonably thinks he may 
retire to his palace, if the 
See provides one. But 
the Home Office next 
steps on the scene and 
demands Exchequer fees. 
The conge de/ire, already 
handsomely paid for, 
means another j£ 7 13s. 6d, 
Equal sums are demanded 
for letters recommenda- 
tory, Royal Assent, and 
restitution of temporali- 
ties. The oath of homage 
is thrown in for^6 6s, 6d., 
which the Biblical know- 
ledge of the Bishop will 






remind him is the number of the Beast. Next 
comes the Board of Green Cloth demanding 
^15 os. ad, (what was it Mr. Man tali ni said 
about the coppers?), being homage fees to be 
distributed among the heralds and the Earl 

On the Bishop taking his seat in the House 
of Lords, gentlemen in the Loid Great 
Chamberlain's Office fob ^5. The Cathedral 
bellringers get ^10 10s, for jubilation on the 
ceremony of enthroni nation, the choir being 
paid j£h rys* 4d. On the same happy occa- 
sion the Precentor draws ^10 10s. and the 
chapter clerk ^£g 14s. 8d., this last in addi- 
lion to ^21 6s. 8d., his fees on the Bishop's 
election. The Archbishop's officers are not 
backward in coming forward to congratulate 
the new Bishop. The Secretary bringing the 
Archbishop's fiat for confirmation collars 
^17 10s. The Vicar-General draws fees on 
confirmation amounting to ^31 os. rod., with 
^10 5s. to spend on the church where the 
ceremony takes place. Nine guineas go to 
the Deputy-Registrar as fees on mandate of 
induction, the customary fee to the Bishop's 
secretaries payable on such occasion being 

The clerk at the Crown Office is fain to 
be satisfied with a humble gratuity of half a 
guinea, less than you would tip your boy at 
Eton or Harrow, But this moderation is 
only apparent He pockets two guineas for 
what he calls petty expenses, and when the 
Bishop takes his seat in the House of Lords 
he claims no less than £1^ 

The total amount of fees payable on enter- 
ing a bishopric, made up of these quaint 
details, is £423 19s, 2d* Curates for whom 
the Episcopal Bench is on the distant, per- 
ad venture unapproachable, horizon will re- 
cognise, with secret pleasure, that the high 
estate has its drawbacks. In parish annals 
there is a well-known story of a gifted clerk 
on the occasion of the visit of the Bishop 
giving out a paraphrased version of the 
hymn : — 

Why skip ye so, ye iiule hills, and wherefore do 

ye hop ? 
Is ii because you're glad to see His Grace llic I^ord 


That is questionable. There can be no 
doubt skipping and hopping (figuratively, of 
course) go on at the Crown Office, the 
Home Office, the Office of the Lord Great 
Chamberlain, in the Archbishop's offices, in 
the precincts of the Dean and Chapter, and 
eke at the Board of Green Cloth, when a 
new Bishop is nominated. The exercise is 
more vigorous when an Archbishop comes to 







by Google 

the throne, since in his case the fees are 

The casual procedure in the 
House of Lords contrasts sharply 
with the well-ordered and strictly- 
obeyed precepts of the House of 
Commons, Practically there is no discipline 
of debate in the House of Lords. Though 
the Lord Chancellor is called the Speaker, 
and draws ^£4,000 a year as emolument of 
the office, he has no authority over members 
even remotely akin to that wielded in the 
House of Commons from the Chair, He 
cannot call to order a member wandering 
from the chorus of debate ; lie may not call 
upon one peer to succeed another. If t as 
has occasionally happened, two peers rise 
together, each declining to give way, motion 
is made that one or other shall take pre- 
cedence, and thereupon the House divides. 
In one of Lord Beaconsfield's 
last appearances in the House of 
Lords it seemed for a while that 
such collision was imminent. 
Towards the close of an impor- 
tant debate Lord Granville presented himself 
at the table to fulfil the appointed duty of 
Leader of the Opposition, winding up debate 
from his side of the House, to be followed 
in due course by the Premier. At the same 
moment Lord Beacons field rose, and began a 
speech. Lord Granville, gentlest and most 
courteous of men> found this more than he 
could stand. He angrily protested, seemed 
for a while inclined to insist on his right, but 
finally gave way. A 
year later, when Lord 
Beacons field was at 
final rest, Lord Gran- 
ville told the secret 
history of the strange 
incident In anticipa- 
tion of making a speech 
at a particular hour the 
Premier had adminis- 
tered to himself a 
medical stimulant cal- 
culated to keep him 
going for the necessary 
hour he would be on 
his legs, The debate 
was unexpectedly pro- 
longed. The time 
had come when he 
must speak, and 
speak he did. 
Lord Granville 
took the oppor- 
tunity of expressing 




his profound regret that, Ignorant of the tragic 
necessity that environed the aged Premier, 
he had even for a moment stood in his way. 
The most striking illustration of 
rather the absolute helplessness of the 
mixed. House of Lords in the absence 
of Standing Orders such as 
govern debate in the Commons is within 
the memory of many now seated in the 
Chamber. The second reading of the 
Deceased Wife's Sister Bill being put down 
for a certain Monday, a noble lord resident 
in Scotland prepared an elaborate speech 
and set out for London, Timing his journey 
so as to reach Euston shortly after noon, he 
missed connection with the London train, 
and found it impossible to be at Westminster 
till the next day. On arriving at the House of 
Lords he found that the first business was a 
resolution on the subject of opening museums 
on a Sunday, He had with him the manu- 
script of his precious speech on the Deceased 
Wife's Sister BilL It was too 
good to be lost. He might, of 
course, save it till next year, when 
the hardy annual would reappear. 
But life is uncertain ; there is no 
time like the present 

Accordingly, when the noble 
lord in charge of the resolution 
on the Opening Museums on 
Sundays had made an end of 
speaking, the noble baron, who 
holds historic rank in the peerage 
of Scotland, followed, and de- 
livered his speech on the 
Deceased Wife's Sister Bill. The 
Lord Chancellor sat aghast on 
the Woolsack, The few peers 
present moved restlessly in their 
seats and deprecatingly coughed. 
Ko one had power to stop the 
bold baron, who went on to the 
uttermost sentence. 

To the difficult and 
delicate question of 
the private occupa- 
tions and public 
appointments of His Majesty's 
Ministers, Lord Salisbury, with his 
accustomed freshness, contributed the appoint- 
ment of Lord Hardwicke to the India Office. 
The Under-Secretary of State for India was, 
at the time of his appointment, a working 
member of a London Stock Exchange firm. 
Heretofore ft had been regarded as a moot 
point whether a member , of the Ministry 
might properly hold connection with a 
business firm. To have one roaming all 

Digitized by Google 






over the Stock Exchange was an arrange- 
ment that nearly took away the breath of so 
imperturbable a body as the House of Lords. 
The question being formally raised, Lord 
Hardwicke frankly explained that he could 
not afford, for the prize of the temporary 
emolument of a Minister of the Crown, to 
abandon his business in the City. All he 
could promise was that he would cut his 
connection with his firm as long as he was 
Secretary of State for India. 

There the amazing matter ended, a new 
and startling precedent having been created 
in one of Lord Salisbury's wanton moments. 
Some of the Premier's predecessors have 
taken another view of the matter. Lord 
Rosebery seized the occasion unreservedly 
to express his during the debate that 
arose on the Hardwicke incident. Mr. 
Gladstone was exigent in insistence on the 
wholesome ruie that precludes possibility of 
conflict between personal financial consider- 
ations and the interests of the 
State, I remember Mr. Mun- 
della telling me at the time he 
accepted office in 1892 that he 
did so at actual pecuniary sacri- 
fice. The salary of President of 
the Board of 'trade did not 
cover the aggregate amount of 
income derived by him from 
various directorships. He re- 
signed a considerable number. 
Unfortunately he retained his 
seat on the Board of a New 
Zealand loan company, whose 
affairs coming into Court were 
made the subject of drastic com- 
ment by the presiding judge. 
The consequence was Mr, Mun- 
della's abrupt retirement from 
public life honourably pursued 
through many years, 

r . *„, Mr. Childers, more 
fortunate in the con- 
clusion of the matter, 
credit ri , f Ajr f 

was. like Mr. Mun- 

ACCOUNT, j „' ff ■ 

della, a sufferer in 
pocket when he first joined a Ministry. When, 
in 1864, Mr. Stansft-ld was driven out of 
office in connection with the Mazzini incident. 
Lord Palmerston offered Mr. Childers office 
as Junior Lord of the Admiralty- Always 
a business man, the young member for 
Pom fret, un dazzled by the opening, con- 
sulted his ledger, and found that, con- 
sequent upon necessary resignations of 
company directorships, acceptance of the 
post would involve a sacrifice of ;£z,ioo a 



1 76 


year. After some hesitation finding it 
would be permissible to retain some of his 
salaried d i recto rships, he accepted the post. 
This last concession was communicated 
in a letter from Mr. Brandy then Whip of the 
Liberal Party, afterwards Speaker of the 
House of Commons, It is valuable as an 
authority upon an ever-recurring question, 

u Lord Palmers ton,* 5 Mr. Brand wrote, 
11 desires me to say he sees no objection to a 
member of the Government retaining other 
employment, provided that employment can 
be carried on without prejudice to the 
Queen's Service, which has the paramount 
claim. Subject to that rule, be leaves it to 
you to determine what class of business you 
may, as a member of the Govern- 
ment, properly retain. He thinks 
that the rule should be applied 
with strictness to foreign under- 

This is a pretty generous con- 
struction of the problem, quite in 
keeping with Pam's easy-going 
disposition. It will be remem- 
bered it was by a breach of the 
one imperative condition that 
poor Lord Henry Lennox came 
to grief. Ifj in spite of all tempta- 
tion, he had never become a 
director of the Lisbon Tramways Co. he might 
have shared to the end the spoils of his friend 
Mr. Disraeli's victory at the polls of 1874. 

An appreciative reader of these 
pages has sent me a little volume 
of rare interest To give it its 
full title it is : M The Royal 
Calendar or Complete and Correct Annual 
Register for England, Scotland, Ireland, 
and America for the year 1801." A 
principal feature is a list of members of the 
eighteenth Parliament of Great Britain sum- 
moned to meet for their first Session in 
September, 1796. "Printed for J. Debrett, 
Piccadilly," it is the progenitor of the volume 
known to later generations as Dod. 

Looking down the list of members sitting 
in the House of Commons exactly a hundred 
years ago I am struck by recurrence of 
names familiar in the House sitting to-day 
and in others that have immediately pre- 
ceded it. There is Nisbet Balfour, a 
Lieutenant-General in the Army r Colonel of 
the 39th Regiment. He shared the repre- 
sentation of Arundel with a member of the 
family name of the member for Shrewsbury, 
and of an even better known Mr. Greene 
who had a seat in the Parliament of 1874. 
There is a Samuel Whi thread and a Robert 







John Buxton, who both had kinsmen sitting 
in the last Parliament, one still on the Front 
Opposition Bench* 

When George III. was King there was in 
the House of Commons a John Lubbock, 
banker, in London, as there was through 
many years of the reign of Queen Victoria* 
Also there was a Benjamin Hobhouse and 
a James Stuart Wortley, Recorder of the 
borough of Boffiney, Cornwall, for which he sat 
at Westminster, We have a Stuart Wortley in 
the House to-day. But where is the borough 
of Boffiney, which a hundred years ago 
returned two members to Parliament? There 
is a John Whitmore, a Charles Sturt, a 
Robert Manners, a Michael Hicks -Beach, 
forebear of the Chancellor of the 
Exchequer, who a hundred years 
ago represented Cirencester, and 
lived at Williamstrip Park> Glou- 
cestershire, There is 
a Cavendish Bentinek, 
whereas a recent Par- 
liament had two, fami- 
liarly known as " Big 
Ben "and "Little Ben/' 
both gone over to the 
majority. There is a 
Robert Curzon, not of 
the family of the Vice- 
roy of India, but a progenitor of the popular 
Ministerial Whip, Lord Randolph Churchill's 
brother-in-law, who last Session left the Com- 
mons to take his seat in the Upper House. 

The earlier days of the century saw a Sir 
Henry Fletcher in the House of Commons* 
as did its closing term. There was John 
Low t her, Charles Villiers, of course Sir 
Watkin Williams Wynn ; Lord George Caven- 
dish, only brother of the Duke of Devon- 
shire ; Cropley Ashley, brother of Lord 
Shaftesbury ; Edward Bouverie, Thomas 
Wyndham, Sir Edward Knatchbull t a Sam 
Smith unfamiliar with modern music-halls, 
knowing nothing of Piccadilly at mid- 
night ; William Montagu Scott, who 
never dreamed a lineal descendant among 
members of the House of Commons 
would call himself Scott Montagu and drive 
a motor-ear; Charles Long, of Trinton Hall, 
Suffolk ; Thomas Manners Sutton, later 
Speaker of the House ; Sir Matthew White 
Ridley, representing Newcastle - on - Tyne ; 
Charles Shaw-Lefevre, another name later 
on connected with the Speaker's Chair ; 
Lionel Darner, to whom sixty years after 
succeeded Dawson Darner, w*hose eccentri- 
cities occasionally disturbed the Parliament of 
1S74 ; Edward Stanley ; Leveson Cower; Lord 




William Russell^ youngest brother of the Duke 
of Bedford ; Simon Harcourt j William Brod- 
rick, Secretary to the East India Board ; John 
Henry Petty, son of the Marquis of Lans- 
downe ; lord John Douglas Campbell, 
second son of the Duke of Argyll. 

Amongst members of this Parliament 
whose names live in history was Spencer 
Perceval, who at that time held no higher 
post than the extinct one f doubtless carrying 
a good salary, of Surveyor of the Meltings and 
Clerk of the Irons in the Mint, In 1809 he 
became Prime Minister, and was done to 
death by Bellinghamj who shot him as he 
entered the Lobby of the House on nth May, 
18 1 3, The spot where he fell is marked to 
this day by a brass plate let into 
the floor of what is now the 
corridor leading from the Houses 
of Parliament into Old Palace 

George Canning, member for 
Wen dove r, Bucks, was Joint Pay- 
master of the Forces, a Commis- 
sioner for the Affairs of India, 
and Receiver - General of the 
Alienation Office, a post long 
ago alienated from connection 
with the Exchequer in the way 
of salary. Charles Fox was 
seated for the City of Westmin- 
ster; whilst the Right Hoa 
Henry Temple Viscount Palm er- 
st on, LL.IX, sat for Winchester, 
living during the Session at 
East Sheen ; through the recess 
at his later more famous country 
seat, 13 road lands, William Wil- 
berforce, not yet having tackled 
the slavery question, sat for 
Yorkshire, a broad area, whose 
representation he shared with 
Henry Lascelles, son of Lord Hare wood, 

Considerable variation in the 

,„,,_._. amount of Ministerial salaries 


,.w *„™ has taken place in the past cen- 

SALARIES* t ,«.^ £, 4 re* 

tury. I he Secretary of state 
for Foreign Affairs, a hundred years ago 
Lord Grenville, was paid at the rate of 
^2,500 a year, against the ^5,000 Lord 
Lansdowne to-day receives, Mr- Dundas, 
Secretary of State for War, had X 2 * 000 a 
year, against Mr. Broclriek's ^5,000, On 
the other hand, the Duke of Portland, Home 
Secretary, drew ^6,000 against Mr. Ritchie's 
five. There was then no Secretary of State 
for India, but Mr, Dun das, President of the 
Board of Commissioners for the Affairs of 
India, received ^2,000. William Pitt did 

gilized by C-QOgle 





exceedingly well in the matter of salaries. 
As First Lord of the Treasury he received 
^,ooo, As Chancellor of the Exchequer 
he had another ,£1,800, whilst as Lord 
Warden of the Cinque Ports he had not 
only Walmer Castle for a residence, but a 
payment of ^3,000 a year to maintain it. 

The following interesting note, 
which reaches me from a well- 
known member of the House of 
Commons, further illustrates two 
points dealt with in the May Number: "I 
have been reading The Strand Magazine, 
and there are in relation to your remarks two 
incidents which perhaps may be worth your 
notice. At the Thanksgiving Service at St. 
Pauls which took place shortly 
after my father was first elected 
to the Chair of the House of 
Commons many and earnest 
discussions took place as what 
was to be done with the Mace 
when the Queen entered the 
Cathedral* One person sug- 
gested that the Serjeant and 
Mace should pop behind a pillar 
when Her Majesty entered. 
Eventually it was arranged that 
a velvet covering should be 
thrown over it as the Queen 

" The second matter is, that I 
was Treasurer in Her Majesty's 
Household in Lord Rosebery's 
Government, and when one 
dined with the Speaker the 
funniest operation had to be 
gone through. By the anti- 
tpiatcd table of precedence 1 
outfit to have gone in first. In 
order to obviate this Sir W. 
Harcourt walked in boldly first, 
and my name was then halloaed by the 
Secretary. I was forewarned as to all this [ 
but it was very funny," 

Since the appearance in the 

MRS, MAY- Kr , m 1 . ^f T*.t. 

November Number ot 1 fie 
krick. g TRAN1> f some remarks therein 
made in connection with the late Lord Chief 
justice and Mrs. Maybrick, I have received 
many evidences of the interest the case still 
excites on the other side of the Atlantic, I 
have refrained from recurring to the matter, 
my part in the controversy being to con- 
tribute to its guidance some statements made 
to me by Lord Russell of Killowen, Mrs. 
Maybrick's advocate, and Lord Llandaff, the 
first Home Secretary whose duly it was to 
revise the judgment arrived at in the Criminal 
Original from 


i 7 8 


Court in Liverpool, presided over by Mr. 
Justice Stephen, 

I have, however* been much struck by 
a passage in one of the newspapers for- 
warded to me. " When, 1 ' it is written, 
*' Mr, Lucy holds up his hands in astonish- 
ment at the marvellous consensus of 
opinion of various Home Secretaries he 
se^ms to us to 
manifest remarkable 
blindness — for one 
so long Behind the 
Speakers Chair — as 
to the vicarious 
nature of that 
opinion. It is more 
possible that the 
conclusions of Mr* 
Matthews, Mr* 
Asquith, and Sir 
Matthew White 
Ridley were all 
drawn for them by 
the same gentleman, 
or at least that the 
same gentleman 
helped these various 
Home Secretaries to 
come to the same 

I confess that this touches an 
important point. The papers 
which at his request were fur- 
nished to Lord Llandaff when he 
was at the Home Office were 
doubtless selected and Submitted under the 
direction of the judge whose evil opinion of ■ 
the prisoner was unconcealed* The Home 
Secretary of the day having dealt with the 
documents, they would be pigeon-holed for 
future reference. Unless sonie important 
fresh evidence in the meantime turned up, 
Mr, Asquith would have precisely thfe 
same data on which to form a judgment 
Sir Matthew White Ridley would in turn 
be similarly limited, and so with Mr. 

Assuming the possibility of animus being 
shown in the selection of the papers, of which 
there is no proof, this state of things, to a 
certain extent, diminishes the effect of the 

opinion in which a succession of Home 
Secretaries have shown themselves united. 

Lord LlandaflPs precise position 
is set forth in his public state- 

how the 





ment of the reason that induced 
him to commute the capital 
"sentence to penal servitude for 
life. "Although," he said, "the evidence 

leads clearly to the 
conclusion that the 
prisoner admin- 
istered and at- 
tempted to admin- 
ister arsenic to her 
husband with in- 
tent to murder, yet 
it does not wholly 
exclude reasonable 
doubt whether his 
death was in fact 
caused by the 
administration of 

That sentence 
coidly and accu- 
rately conveys the 
impression Lord 
Llandaff enlarged 
upon in private con- 
versation some time 
after he quitted the Home Office. He, 
indeed, went so far as to declare his belief 
that Mrs. May brick } having deliberately 
planned and systematically carried out 
murderous design, she ought to have been 
hanged But, eagerly catching at doubt of 
the efficacy of her efforts, he advised the 
Queen to respite the wretched woman. 

In that view, arrived at, I believe, by the 
same pathways, two successive Home Secre- 
taries have concurred, Mr. Asqutth, chal- 
lenged on the subject, protested that "As in 
every criminal case coming before me, I care- 
fully examined the case of Mrs. May brick. 
I did not feel bound by the decision of my 
predecessor in office. I brought to bear 
upon it such judgment as I possess, and I 
decided honestly, conscientiously, with abso- 
lute impartiality." 

Everyone who knows M-r, Asquith will 
accept that assurance to its fullest extent 

by Google 

Original from 

A Lightning Modeller. 

By Frank Holm field* 

Illustrations from Photographs. 

HERE are tremendous possi- 
bilities in a lump of modelling 
clay— when manipulated by a 
skilled artist. 

Such will be the conclusion 
that must be arrived at by 
anyone who has witnessed, at the London 
Pavilion* the remarkable performance of Mr, 
De Bessell, before whose lissom fingers an un- 
shapely mass of brown mud-mixture assumes, 
in an almost incredibly short space of time, 
forms and features as true to life as may he. 

There is a slap -dash and " go-ahead" style 
about Mr. De Bessell's work which adds to 
his artistic performance a drollness irre- 
sistible to most people. Whilst he is always 
thoroughly in earnest, 
he manages — I will not 
say unconsciously — to 
make the most hardened 
cynic chuckle with mirth. 
His is a truly unique 
entertainment. With an 
oblong slab of wood 
fitted upon an ordinary 
easel, and supplemented 
by a big lump of the 
necessary material and 
ten deftly artistic fingers, 
he can produce effects 
simply marvellous in 
detail, considering the 
wonderfully short time 

The smart variety 
theatre " turn " known as 
" lightning modelling " 
originated with Mr. De 
BesselL And he may 
be said to have retained 
a monopoly of the inter- 
esting and amusing entertainment. Of course, 
there are the usual crop of imitation "acts," 
The writer has seen some of these. But in 
skill, artistic effect, and humour they are 
simply not in the running with the original. 
To produce a first-class caricature in clay of, 
say, Mr. Kruger within a space of ioosec. is 
a feat not to be tackled by any save the 
smartest modellers. And certainly Mr. De 
Bessell is smart, ahead of nil others 

Digitized by Google 

One can't become a successful lightning 
modeller at a moment's notice — nor at a 
year's, for the matter of that ! It has taken 
the subject of this article the greater portion 
of his lifetime to reach the standard of 
smartness and artistic completeness, 

" From my very earliest schooldays," said 
Mr. De Bessell to me, "I always had a 
liking for such work. They told me, too, 
that my mud pies and sand castles were 
always eminently superior to the efforts of 
my most enthusiastic playfellows ! I have 
even been complimented," went on the clay 
king humorously, "by one of my school 
teachers on the excellence of what I'm afraid 
was a rather rude caricature model of his own 
face ! 

"With such encouragement there 
was only one profession open to me! 


I went on the stage I 

Yes ; after a great deal 
of study under some of the best masters in 
the States" — Mr. De Bessell hails therefrom 
— "I saw that there was an opening for such 
an original 'turn.' There was absolutely 
nothing like St. It was quite new. And you 
know what managers want. They are always 
crying out for novelty— and not often with 
success, so scarce has become the material to 
be drawn upon. 

Original from 





" It was not 
long before I 
found myself in 
Kngland — by 
the way, what an 
extraord i nary 
theatre - going 
nation England 
is! The enor- 
mous patronage 
given to the 
k halls ' particu- 
larly astonishes 
us Americans, 
even accustomed 
as wu have been 
to big a u d i - 
Clay modelling 
on the stage would be rather slow under 
ordinary methods of manipulation, In fact, 
it would not "go" were there not plenty of 
life and dash introduced, 

Mr. De Bedell's methods " fill the bill." 
As soon as he 
has made his 
bow to the audi- 
ence he catches 
up a great chunk 
of clay in his 
hands. Standi 
ing a yard or 
two away from 
the modelling 
slab he hurls 
lump after 
lump, with 
unerring aim 
and wonder- 
ful rapidity, at 
its centre, to 
the sound of 
lively orches- 
tral tunes. 

Every lump 
is thrown with 
a particular 
purpose, and 
even before 
the artist's 
fingers touch 
it the outline 

of a face is plainly discernible. As soon as 
he has hurled the last lump at the slab, with 
a rush he has crossed to the easel and with 
extraordinary swiftness his fingers are darting 
hither and thither, A dab here, a pinch 
there, a rub yonder, a punch below — those 
deft fingers get in their work. Not a tool is 


' Li. \\l I S Si. [I'M \> 


used from beginning to end, only the fingers. 

In and out, out and in, they twist and twirl 

in a truly bewildering fashion* 

In some- 
thing like fif- 
teen seconds 
that mass of 
brown clay 
has been 
pinched, pun- 
ch ed } rubbed, 
and shoved 
into features 
w h i c h the 
spectator be* 
gins to recog- 
nise as having 
come within 
his vision 
somewhere at 
some time— 
he can't 
exactly say. 
lingers and 
thumbs raise 
both eye- 
brows in a 
certain pecu- 
liar twist only 
known to be 

of one man--' 1 the whole discovery is now 

found out," as they say in the melodramas. 

Those eyebrows have given the neces- 
sary expression 

to the incom- 
plete features. 

It is our old 

friend Kruger! 

But where are 

his famous 


Wait a m o - 


A few little 

lumps of clay 

are flung from 

the lightning 

m o cl e 1 1 e r i s 

hands- They 

form a fringe 

to the face — 

and are Kru- 

ger's whiskers 

in embryo. 

A few quick 

dashes of the 

artist's fingers, 

and the hirsute 

Original from 




ornamentation is 
complete ! 

K ruger's hat 
has played as 
big a f part in 
caricature as did 
the collar of a 
famous states- 
man. Without 
his hat Kruger 
would be a mere 
nonentity. Shall 
this particular 
Kruger remain 
hat less ? Never ! 
Grabbing up one 
more lump of 
the pliable clay, 
Mr, De Bessell's 
fi nge rs soon 
model it into the 
typical old 
11 topper }? of re- 
nown. Another 
second and it is 
reposing, some- 
what jauntily 
perhaps, on the well-worn cranium* Kruger 
is all there. The entire operation has taken 
up imin. 43 2 5 sec. by Benson s chrono- 

Who has 
ever seen a 
picture of 
Kruger other- 
wise than de- 
picting a very 
worried state 
of mind? 
Well, Mr. De 
Kessell shows 
us what Oom 
Paul would 
look like if 
he were ever 
persuaded to 
smile. The 
effect, how- 
ever, is not 
tary. Even 
adorned with 

a smile, Kruger refuses to he beautiful. The 
model is now supposed to represent Kruger 
on hearing for the tenth time that De Wet 
has "slipped through.'' 

Another movement or two of the artist's 

Digitized by GoOQlc 



deft hands, and 
lo I we see Kruger 
as he will be 
when the sad but 
inevitable news 
arrives at last 
that " De Wet is 

The next 
operation of the 
clay shows that 
the venerable 
Boer is to be 
made good use 
of. His whiskers 
are whisked 
away ; his hat 
decapitated and 
turned into an 
old woman's 
bonnet. The fea- 
tures are still 
Kruger's, but the 
change in acces- 
sories has trans- 
mogrified him 
into an old 
woman in a state of intense grief. This pre- 
sently changes to a different frame of mind, 
until a punch below the chin from the 
modeller's clenched fist produces a lugubrious 
effect on the old lady's features. 

Next we are treated to another lightning 
production of a present-day celebrity. This 

is no less a 
pe r so n age 
than Li Hung 
Chang, who, 
with pig-tail, 
peacock's fea- 
thers and all, 
turns from a 
mass of clay 
to an excel- 
lent model of 
the wily Chi- 
nese states- 
man in the 
course of 
imin. 2sJsec + 
A truly won- 
derful feat. 

« John Bull 
and Jona- 
than/' a tri- 
bute to the 
excellent feel- 
ing existing 


weej^ . between the 

Original from 




ofll Thinking that it would be a good hit if, 
during the temporary darkness, he could get 
the caricature partly done, the modeller con- 
tinued hurling the clay. Suddenly he heard 
an awful howl of agony. At the same 


Such an 
any length 

two nations, is 
tackled and 
finished in zmin. 
4 5 sec. It is a 
revelation to see 
Mr. He Bessell 
with both hands 
at work, eat h on 
a different face* 
at the same 
time ! 
entertainment does not run for 
of time without meeting with 
some odd little experiences. I have referred 
to the hurling of the clay from Mr. l>e 
Bessell"S hands on to the modelling skib. 
This has led to more than one little humor- 
ous episode, as the following anecdote proves 

-the victim 
might differ as 
to the [joint of 
the humour. 

In Vienna last 
year the light- 
ning modeller 
had begun as 
usual to hurl the 
clay upon the 
slab preparatory 
to forming a 
caricature. He 
stood about two 
yards away. He 
had barely begun 
to throw when 
the electric light 
throughout the 
theatre was acci- 
dental I v turned 

F-ACH \\ 

by Google 


moment the electric light was switched on 
discovering the stage manager (who had 
rushed across the dark stage to see what 
had happened to the lights) endeavouring 
to remove from his features a huge lump 
of the clay, which, coming with full force 

from the model- 
ler's hand, had 
struck him 
across the eyes, 
which were 
black for days 

[The writer de- 
sires to acknow- 
ledge the cour- 
tesy of Mr* Frank 
(xlenister, the 
manager of the 
Pavilion f in ena- 
bling the accom- 
panying photo- 
graphs to be 
secured under 
difficult cir- 
cumstances, — 
F. H.] 
igmal from 


At Sunwich Port. 

By W. W. Jacobs. 


|OR the first few days after his 
return Sunwich was full of 
surprises to Jem Hardy. The 
town itself had changed but 
little, and the older inhabitants 
were for the most part easily 
recognisable, but time had wrought wonders 
among the younger members of the popu la- 
lion : small boys had attained to whiskered 
manhood, and small girls passing into well- 
grown young women had in some cases 
changed even their names. 

The most astonishing and gratifying in- 
stance of the wonders 
effected by time was that of 
Miss Nugent. He saw her 
first at the window, and 
with a ready recognition of 
the enchantment lent by 
distance took the first pos- 
sible opportunity of a closer 
observation. He then 
realized the enchantment 
afforded by proximity. The 
second opportunity led 
him impetuously into a 
draper's shop, where a 
magn i fi ceil t s hop - wa Ik er, 
after first ceremoniously 
handing him a high cane 
chair, passed on his order 
fo pins in a deep and 
thrilling baritone, and re- 
tired in good order. 

% the end of a week his 
observations were com- 
pleted, and Kate Nugent, 
*oirely enthroned in his 
mind as the incarnation of 
fern in ine grace and beauty, 
left but little room for 
tther matters. On his 
second Sunday at home, to 
his father's great surprise, 
he attended church, and 
after contemplating Miss 
Agent's hack hair for an 
Wr and a half came 




quarrel between you. It's absurd that it 
should go on indefinitely," , . 

" Why, what does it matter ? " inquired 
the other, staring. " Why should n't it ? 
Perhaps it's the music that's affected you j 

some of those old hymns " 

" It wasn't the sermon and it wasn't the 
hymns," said his son, disdainfully; ** it's just 
common sense. It seems to me that the 
enmity between you has lasted long enough." 
" I don't see that it matters/' said the 
captain; " it doesn't hurt me. Nugent goes 
his way and I go mine, but if I ever get a 
chance at the old man, he'd better look out. 
He wants a little of the 
starch taken out of hrm." 

kL More mannerism," 
said his son, 

11 He's as proud as Luci- 
fer, and his girl takes after 
him, 1 ' said the innocent 
captain. "By the way, 
she's grown up a very good- 
looking girl. You take a 
loo^ at her the ne\t time 
you see her," 

His son stared at him. 
"Shell get married soon, 
I should 
think," con- 
tinued the 
Murchison, the new doctor 
here, seems to be the 
favourite. Nugent is back- 
ing him, so they say ; I 
wish him joy of his father- 

Jem Hardy took his 
pipe iruo the garden, and, 
pacing slowly up and down 
the narrow paths, deter- 
mined, at any costs T to 
save Dr. Murchison from 
such a father-in-law and 
Kate Nugent from any 
husband except of his 
He took a seat under an old 

home and spoke choosing, 
eloquently and nobly on " burying hatchets," apple tree and, musing in the twilight, tried 
"healing old sores,' 1 ** letting bygones be in vain to think of ways and means of making 

bygones/ 1 and kindred topics 

"I never take much notice of sermons 
Myself," said the captain, misunderstanding. 

+ ' Sermon?" said his son* "I wasn't 
jinking of the sermon, but I saw Captain 
Nugent there, and I remembered the stupid 

Copyright, 1901, by 

her acquaintance. 

Meantime they parsed each other as 
strangers, and the difficulty of approaching 
her only made the task more alluring. In 
the second week he reckoned up that he had 
seen her nine times. It was a satisfactory 

*frSvW £jl * in th * United Slatcs 0- Q' |, **ri*wl from 


1 84 


total, but at the same time he could not shut 
his eyes to the fact that five times out of that 
number he had seen Dr Murchison as well, 
and neither of them appeared to have seen 

He sat thinking it over in the office one 
hot afternoon* Mr* Adolphus Swarm, his 
partner, had just returned from lunch, and 
for about the fifth time that day was arrang- 
ing his white hair and short, neatly-pointed 
beard in a small looking-glass* Over the top 
of it he glanced at Hardy> who, leaning 
back in his chair, bit his pen and stared hard 
at a paper before him. 

11 H that the manifest of the North Star?" 
he inquired, 

41 Nu,' T was the reply. 

Mr. Swan n put his looking-glass away and 
watched the other as he crossed over to the 
window and gazed through the small, dirty 
panes at the bustling life of the harbour 
below. For a short time Hardy stood gazing 
in silence, and then, suddenly crossing the 
room, took his hat from a peg and went 

" Restless," said the senior partner, wiping 
his folders with great care and putting them 
on, "Wonder where he's put 
that manifest." 

He went over to the other's 
desk and opened a 
drawer to search for 
it* Just inside was a 
sheet of foolscap, and 
Mr, Swann with grow- 
ing astonishment 
slowly mastered the 

"See her as often 
as possible*" 

u Get to know some 
of her friends." 

" Try and get hold 
of the old lady*'' 

"Find out her 
tastes and ideas." 

" Show my hand 
before Murchison has 
it all his own way*" 

" It seems to me," 
said the bewildered 
ship broker, carefully 
replacing the paper, 
"that my young 
friend is looking out for another 
partner. He hasn't lost much 

He went back to his seat and 
resumed his work, It occurred 

to him that he ought to let his partner know 
what he had seen, and when Hardy returned 
he had barely seated himself before Mr* 
Swann with a mysterious smile crossed over 
to him, bearing a sheet of foolscap. 

"Try and dress as well as my partner/' 
read the astonished Hardy. M What's the 
matter with my clothes? What do you 
mean ? " 

Mr. Swann, in place of answering, returned 
to his desk and, taking up another sheet of 
foolscap, began to write again, holding up his 
hand for silence as Hardy repeated his 
question. When he had finished his task he 
brought it over and placed it in the other's 

t( Take her little brother out for walks*" 
Hardy crumpled the paper up and flung it 
aside. Then, with his face crimson, he stared 
wrath fully at the benevolent Swann. 

•* It's the safest card in the pack," said the 
latter. " You please everybody ; especially 
the little brother. You should always hold 
his hand —it looks well for one thing, and if 

you shut your eyes " 

M I don't want any of your nonsense," said 
the maddened Jem. " What do you mean 
by reading my private papers ? " 

" 1 came over to look for the 
manifest/ 1 said Mr. Swann, "and 
1 read it before I could make out 
what it was, You must admit 
that it's a bit cryptic. I thought 
it was a new game at first. Get- 
ting hold of the old lady sounds 
like a sort of blind- man's buff. 
But why not get hald 
of the younii; one? 
Why waste time 
over— — " 
"Go to 




by Google 




devil," said 

* ( A n y 
more sug- 
gestions I 
can give 
you, you are 
heartily wel- 
come to," 
said Mr. 
;niii£ buck to his 
seat. "All my 
vast experience 
is at your ser- 
vice, and the 
best and sweet- 





est and prettiest girls in Sunwich regard me 
as a sort of second father." 

" What's a second father ? " inquired Jem, 
looking up — " a grandfather ? " 

" Go your own way," said the other ; " I 
wash my hands of you. You're not in 
earnest, or you'd clutch at any straw. But 
let me give you one word of advice. Be 
careful how you get hold of the old lady ; 
let her understand from the commencement 
that it isn't her." 

Mr. Hardy went on with his work. There 
was a pile of it in front of him and an 
accumulation in his drawers. For some time 
be wrote assiduously, but work was dry after 
the subject they had been discussing. He 
looked over at his partner and, seeing that 
that gentleman was gravely busy, re-opened 
the matter with a jeer. 

" Old maids always know most about rear- 
ing children," he remarked j "so I suppose 
old bachelors, looking down on life from 
the top shelf, think they know most about 

"I wash my hands of you," repeated the 
senior, placidly. " I am not to be taunted 
into rendering first aid to the wounded." 

The conscience-stricken junior lost his pre- 
sence of mind. "Who's trying to taunt 
you?" he demanded, hotly. "Why, you'd 
do more harm than good." 

" Put a bandage round the head instead 
of the heart, I expect," assented the chuckl- 
ing Swann. " Top shelf, I think you said ; 
well, I climbed there for safety." 

"You must have been much run after," 
said his partner. 

14 1 was," said the other. "I suppose 
that's why it is I am always so interested in 
these affairs. I have helped to marry so 
many people in this place, that I'm almost 
afraid to stir out after dark." 

Hardy's reply was interrupted by the en- 
trance of Mr. Edward Silk, a young man of 
forlorn aspect, who combined in his person 
the offices of messenger, cleaner, and office- 
hoy to the firm. He brought in some letters, 
and placing them on Mr. Swann's desk 

"There's another," said the latter, as the 
door closed. " His complaint is Amelia 
Kybird, and he's got it badly. She's big 
enough to eat him, but I believe that they 
are engaged. Perseverance has done it in 
his case. He used to go about like a blighted 
flower " 

u I am rather busy," his partner reminded 

Mr. Swann sighed and resumed his own 


labours. For some time both men wrote in 
silence. Then the elder suddenly put his 
pen down and hit his desk a noisy thump 
with his fist. 

" I've got it," he said, briskly ; " apologize 
humbly for all your candour, and I will give 
you a piece of information which shall 
brighten your dull eyes, raise the corners of 
your drooping mouth, and renew once more 
the pink and cream in your youthful 

" Look here " said the overwrought 


"Samson Wilks," interrupted Mr. Swann, 
"number three, Fullalove Alley, at home 
Fridays, seven to nine, to the daughter of his 
late skipper, who always visits him on that 
day. Don't thank me, Hardy, in case you 
break down. She's a very nice girl, and if she 
had been born twenty years earlier, or I had 
been born twenty years later, or you hadn't 
been born at all, there's no saying what might 
not have happened." 

"When I want you to interfere in my 
business," said Hardy, working sedulously, 
"I'll let you know." 

" Very good," replied Swann ; " still, re- 
member Thursdays, seven to nine." 

" Thursdays," said Hardy, incautiously ; 
"why, you said Fridays just now." 

Mr. Swann made no reply. His nose was 
immersed in the folds of a large handkerchief, 
and his eyes watered profusely behind his 
glasses. It was some minutes before he had 
regained his normal composure, and even 
then the sensitive nerves of his partner 
were offended by an occasional belated 

Although by dint of casual and cautious 
inquiries Mr. Hardy found that his partner's 
information was correct, he was by no means 
guilty of any feelings of gratitude towards 
him ; and he only glared scornfully when 
that excellent but frivolous man mounted a 
chair on Friday afternoon, and putting the 
clock on a couple of hours or so, urged him 
to be in time. 

The evening, however, found him starting 
slowly in the direction of Fullalove Alley. 
His father had gone to sea again, and the 
house was very dull ; moreover, he felt a 
mild curiosity to see the changes wrought by 
time in Mr. Wilks. He walked along by the 
sea, and as the church clock struck the three- 
quarters turned into the alley and looked 
eagerly round for the old steward. 

The labours of the day were over, and the 
inhabitants were for the most part out of 
doors taking .the .air. . Shirt-sleeved house- 


1 86 


holders, leaning against their door - posts 
smoking, exchanged ideas across the narrow 
space paved with cobble-stones which sepa- 
rated their small and ancient houses, while 
the matrons, more gregariously inclined, 
bunched in 
little groups 
and discussed 
subjects which 
in higher 



circles would have inundated the land with 
libel actions. Up and down the alley a 
tiny boy all ready for bed, with the exception 
of his nightgown, mechanically avoided 
friendly palms as he sought anxiously for his 

The object of Mr. Hardy's search sat at 
the door of his front room, which opened on 
to the alley, smoking an evening pipe, and 
noting with an interested eye the doings of 
his neighbours. He was just preparing to 
draw himself up in his chair as the intruder 
passed, when to his utter astonishment that 
gentleman stopped in front of him, and 
taking possession of his hand shook it 

4 * How do you do ? J] he said, smiling. 

Mr* Wilks eyed him stupidly and, releasing 
his hand, coyly placed it in his tro user- pocket 
and breathed hard. 

11 1 meant to come before," said Hardy, 
"but I've been so busy. How are you ? s> 

Mr. Wilks, still dazed, muttered that he 
was very well. Then he sat bolt upright in 
his chair and eyed his visitor suspiciously. 

"IVe been longing for a chat with you 
about old times," said Hardy ; " of all my old 
friends you seem to have changed the least 
You don't look a day older." 

il I'm getting on,* said Mr. 

Wilks, trying to speak coldly, but 

| jt observing with some gratification 

fl|^ the effect produced upon his 

neighbours by the appearance of 

this well-dressed acquaintance, 

"I wanted to ask your advice," 
said the unscrupulous Hardy, 
speaking in low tones, u I dare- 
say you know I've just gone into 
partnership in Sunwich, and I J m 
told there's no man knows more 
about the business and the tns 
and outs of this town than you 

Mr. Wilks thawed despite 
himself. His face glistened and 
his huge mouth broke into tre- 
mulous smiles. For a moment 
he hesitated, and then noticing 
that a little group near them 
had suspended their conversa- 
tion to listen to his he drew* 
his chair back and, in a kind 
voice, invited the searcher after 
wisdom to step inside. 

Hardy thanked him, and, 
following him in, took a chair 
behind the door, and with an air of 
youthful deference bent his ear to catch 
the pearls which fell from the lips of his host 
Since he was a babe on his mother's knee 
sixty years before Mr. Wilks had never had 
such an attentive and admiring listener. 
Hardy sat as though glued to his chair, one 
eye on Mr. Wilks and the other on the clock, 
and it was not until that ancient timepiece 
struck the hour that the ex-steward suddenly 
realized the awkward state of affairs. 

M Any more 'elp I can give you I shall 
always be pleased to," he said, looking at the 

Hardy thanked him at gTeat length, won- 
dering, as he spoke, whether Miss Nugent 
was of punctual habits. He leaned back in 
his chair and, folding his arms, gazed 
thoughtfully at the perturbed Mr, Wilks, 

" You must come round and smoke a pipe 
with me sometimes," he said, casually* 

Mr. Wilks flushed with gratified pride. He 
had a \ision of hinisi If walking up to the 
front door of the Hardys^ smoking a pipe 





and telling 
Fullalove Alley 


in a well-appointed room, 
incredulous and envious 
about it afterwards, 

11 1 shall be very pleased, sir," he said, 

"Come round on Tuesday," said 
visitor " I shall be at home then," 

Mr. Wilks thanked him and, spurred on to 
hospitality, murmured something about a 
glass of ale, and retired to the back to draw 
it He came hack with a jug and a couple 
of glasses, and draining his own at a draught, 
hoped that the example would not be lost 
upon his visitor. That astute person, however, 
after a modest draught, sat still, anchored to 
the half-empty glass, 

14 I'm expecting somebody tonight," said 
the ex-steward, at last* 

" No doubt you have a lot of visitors," 
said the other, admiringly. 

Mr. Wilks did not deny it. He eyed bis 
guest *s glass and fidgeted. 

" Miss Nugent is coming,' 1 he said. 

Instead of any signs of dis- 
order and preparations for rapid 
flight, Mr, Wilks saw that the 
other was quite composed. He 
began to entertain a poor idea 
of Mr, Hardy's memory. 

" She generally comes 
little quiet chat," he said, 

u Indeed!" 

"Just between the two 
us,'' said the other. 

His visitor said " Indeed," 
and, as though some chord of 
memory had been touched, sat 
gazing dreamily at Mr. Wilks 's 
horticultural collection in the 
window. Then he changed 
colour a little as a smart hat 
and a pretty face crossed the 
tiny panes, Mr. Wilks changed 
colour too, and in an awkward 
fashion rose to receive Miss 

M Late as usual, Sam," said 
the girl, sinking into a chair. 
Then she caught sight of Hardy, who was 
standing by the door. 

" It's a long time since you and I met, 
Miss Nugent," he said, bowing, 

" Mr, Hardy? " said the girl, doubtfully. 

"Yes, miss," interposed Mr. Wilks, 
anxious to explain his position, " He called 
in to see me ; quite a surprise to me it was. 
I 'ardly knowed him." 

"The last time we three met," said Hardy, 
who to his host's discomfort had resumed 

his chair, " Wilks was thrashing me and you 
were urging him on." 

Kate Nugent eyed him carefully. It was 
preposterous that this young man should 
take advantage of a boy and girl acquaintance 
of eleven years before — and such an ac- 
quaintance ! — in this manner. Her eyes 
expressed a little surprise, not unmixed with 
hauteur, but Hardy was too pleased to have 
them turned in his direction at all to quarrel 
with their expression. 

"You were a bit of a trial in them days," 
said Mr. Wilks, shaking his head. " If I live 
to be ninety I shall never forget seeing Miss 
Kate capsized the way she was. The way 
she " 

for a 




"How is your cold?" inquired Miss 
Nugent, hastily. 

" Better, miss, thankee," said Mr. 

11 Miss Nugent has forgotten and forgiven 
all that long ago," said Hardy. 

"Quite," assented the girl, coldly; "one 
cannot remember all the boys and gills one 
knew as a child." 

"Certainly not," said Hardy. "I find 
that many have slipped from my own 


1 88 


memory, but I have a most vivid recollec- 
tion of you." 

Miss Nugent looked at him again, and an 
idea, strange and incredible, dawned slowly 
upon her. Childish impressions are lasting, 
and Jem Hardy had remained in her mind 
as a sort of youthful ogre. He sat before 
her now a frank, determined-looking young 
Englishman, in whose honest eyes admira- 
tion of herself could not be concealed. 
Indignation and surprise struggled for 

" It's odd/' remarked Mr. Wilks, who had 
a happy knack at times of saying the wrong 
thing, " it's odd you should *ave 'appened to 
come just at the same time as Miss Kate 

" It's my good fortune," said Hardy, with 
a slight bow. Then he cocked a malignant 
eye at the innocent Mr. Wilks, and wondered 
at what age men discarded the useless habit 
of blushing. Opposite him sat Miss Nugent, 
calmly observant, the slightest suggestion of 
disdain in her expression. Framed in the 
queer, high-backed old chair which had 
belonged to Mr. Wilks's grandfather, she 
made a picture at which Jem Hardy continued 
to gaze with respectful ardour. A hopeless 
sense of self-depreciation possessed him, but 
the idea that Murchison should aspire to so 
much goodness and beauty made him almost 
despair of his sex. His reverie was broken 
by the voice of Mr. Wilks. 

" A quarter to eight ? " said that gentleman 
incredulously ; " it can't be." 

" I thought it was later than that," said 
Hardy, simply. 

Mr. Wilks gasped, and with a faint shake 
of his head at the floor abandoned the thank- 
less task of giving hints to a young man who 
was too obtuse to see them ; and it was not 
until some time later that Mr. Hardy, sorely 
against his inclinations, gave his host a hearty 
handshake and, with a respectful bow to 
Miss Nugent, took his departure. 

u Fine young man he's growed," said Mr. 
Wilks, deferentially, turning to his remaining 
visitor ; " greatly improved, I think." 

Miss Nugent looked him over critically 
before replying. " He seems to have taken 
a great fancy to you," she remarked. 

Mr. Wilks smiled a satisfied smile. " He 
came to ask my advice about business," he 
said, softly. " He's 'card two or three speak 
o' me as knowing a thing or two, and being 
young, and just starting, 'e came to talk it 
over with me. I never see a young man so 
pleased and ready to take advice as wot 
he is." 

Digitized by <jOOQ I C 

" He is coming again for more, I suppose ? " 
said Miss Nugent, carelessly. 

Mr. Wilks acquiesced. "And he asked 
me to go over to his 'ouse to smoke a pipe 
with 'im on Tuesday," he added, in the 
casual manner in which men allude to their 
aristocratic connections. " He's a bit lonely, 
all by himself." 

Miss Nugent said, " Indeed," and then, 
lapsing into silence, gave little occasional 
side-glances at Mr. Wilks, as though in search 
of any hidden charms about him which 
might hitherto have escaped her. 

At the same time Mr. James Hardy, 
walking slowly home by the edge of the sea, 
pondered on further ways and means of 
ensnaring the affections of the ex-steward. 

The anticipations of Mr. Wilks were more 
than realized on the following Tuesday. 
From the time a trim maid showed him into 
the smoking-room until late at night, when 
he left, a feted and honoured guest, with one 
of his host's best cigars between his teeth, 
nothing that could yield him any comfort 
was left undone. In the easiest of easy 
chairs he sat in the garden beneath the leafy 
branches of apple trees, and undiluted 
wisdom and advice flowed from his lips in a 
stream as he beamed delightedly upon his 

Their talk was mainly of Sunwich and 
Sunwich people, and it was an easy step 
from these to Equator Lodge. On that 
subject most people would have found the 
ex * steward somewhat garrulous, but Jem 
Hardy listened with great content, and even 
brought him back to it when he showed 
signs of wandering. Altogether Mr. Wilks 
spent one of the pleasantest evenings of 
his life, and, returning home in a slight 
state of mental exhilaration, severely exer- 
cised the tongues of Fullalove Alley by 
a bearing considered incompatible with his 

Jem Hardy paid a return call on the 
following Friday, and had no cause to com- 
plain of any lack of warmth in his reception. 
The ex-steward was delighted to see him, and 
after showing him various curios picked up 
during his voyages, took him to the small 
yard in the rear festooned with scarlet- 
runner beans, and gave him a chair in full 
view of the neighbours. 

" I'm the only visitor to-night ? " said 
Hardy, after an hour's patient listening and 

Mr. Wilks nodded casually. " Miss Kate 




came last night," he said* "Friday is her 
night, but she came yesterday instead." 

Mr. Hardy said, lf 0h, indeed," and fell 
straightway into a dismal reverie from which 
the most spirited efforts of his host only 
partially aroused 



Without giving 
way to undue 
egotism it was 
pretty clear that 
Miss Nugent had 
changed her plans 
on his account, 
and a long vista of 
pleasant Friday 
evenings suddenly 
vanished. He, 
too, resolved 
to vary his 
visits, and, 
starting with a 
basis of two 
a week, sat 
trying to solve 
the mathema- 
tical chances 
of selecting 
the same as 
Kate Nugent; 
which were 
not facilitated 
by a long- 
winded ac- 
count from 
Mr. wilks of 
certain inter- 
esting amours of his youthful prime. 

Before he saw Kate Nugent again, how- 
ever, another old acquaintance turned up 
safe and sound in Sunwich. Captain Nugent 
walking into the town saw him first : a tall, 
well-knit young man in shabby clothing, 
whose bearing even in the distance was oddly 
familiar. As he came closer the captain's 
misgivings were confirmed, and in the sun- 
burnt fellow in tattered clothes who advanced 
upon him with outstretched hand he reluct- 
antly recognised his son. 

M What have you come home for ? " he 
inquired, ignoring the hand and eyeing him 
from head to foot. 

"Change," said Jack Nugent, laconically, 
as the smile left his face. 

The captain shrugged his shoulders and 
stood silent. His son looked first up the 
road and then down. 

" All well at home ? " he inquired. 

Digitized by Google 


" Yes." 

Jack Nugent looked up the road again. 
" Not much change in the town," he said, 
at length. 

" No, " said his father, 

"Well, Fm glad 
^ to have seen you/' 
said his son. 

said the captain. 

His son nodded 
and, turning on 
his heel, walked 
back towards the 
town* Despite his 
forlorn appearance 
his step was jaunty 
and he carried his 
head high. The 
captain watched 
him until he was 
hidden by a bend 
in the road, and 
then, ashamed of 
himself for display- 
ing so much emo- 
tion, turned his 
own steps in the 
direction of 

"Well, he 
didn't whine," 
he said, slowly, 
" He's got a bit 
of pride left" 

Meantime the 
prodigal had 
reached the town again, and stood rue fully con- 
sidering his position. He looked up the street, 
and then, the well-known shop of Mr. Kybird 
catching his eve, walked over and inspected 
the contents of the window, Sheath-knives, 
belts, tolmcco-boxes, and watches were dis- 
played alluringly behind the glass, sheltered 
from the sun by a row of cheap clothing 
dangling from short poles over the shop front 
All the goods were marked in plain figures in 
reduced circumstances, Mr. Kybird giving a 
soaring imagination play in the first marking, 
and a good business faculty in the second. 

At these valuables Jack Nugent, with a 
view of obtaining some idea of prices, gazed 
for some time* Then passing between two 
suits of oilskins which stood as sentinels in 
the doorway, he entered the shop and smiled 
affably at Miss Kybird, who was in charge. 
At his entrance she put down a piece of 

fancy work, which Mr. Kybird called his 
Original from 




WHAT rki VOL" 

sock t and with a casual glance at his clothes 
regarded him with a prejudiced eye. 

44 Beautiful day>" said the customer ; 
"makes one feel quite young again." 

"What do you want?" inquired Miss 

Mr, Nugent turned to a broken cane-chair 
which stood by the counter, 
and, after applying severe tests, 
regardless of the lady's feelings, 
sat down upon it and gave a 
sigh of relief. 

" IVe walked from London," 
he said, in explanation, 
could sit here for hours." 

"Look here ■ 

began the indignant Miss 

"Only people 
would be sure to 
couple our names 
together," con- 
tinued Mr, Nugent, 
" When a hand- 
some young man 
and a good-looking 
girl ■« 

" Do you want 
to buy anything or 
not ? " demanded 
Miss Kybird, with an 

"No/ 3 said Jack, "I want to sell." 

" You've come to the wrong shop, then," 
said Miss Kybird; "the warehouse is full of 
rubbish now," 

The other turned in his chair and looked 
hard at the window. '* So it is," he assented. 
" It's a good job IVe brought you something 
decent to put there" 

He felt in his pockets and, producing a 
silver-mounted briar-pipe, a battered watch, 
a knife, and a few other small articles, 
deposited them with reverent care upon the 

" No use to us," declared Miss Kybird, 
anxious to hit back ; " we 

" Thesell bum better than the 
buy," said the unmoved customer. 

11 Well, we don't want them," retorted Miss 
Kybird, raising her voice, "and I don't 
want any of your impudence. Get up out of 
our chair." 

Her heightened tones penetrated to the 
small and untidy room behind the shop. 
The door opened, and Mr. Kybird in his 
shirt-sleeves appeared at the opening. 

Digitized by L^OOgle 

" Wot's the row ? " he demanded, his 
little black eyes glancing from one to the 

"Only a lovers' quarrel," replied Jack. 
"You go away ; we don't want you." 

"Look 'ere, we don't want none o* your 
nonsense," said the shopkeeper, sharply; 

impatient toss of her 

burn t:nal 
coal you 

" and, wot's more, we won't J ave it Who 
put that rubbish on my counter?" 

He bustled forward, and taking the articles 
in his hands examined them closely, 

"Three shillings for the lot — cash," he 

" Done," said the other. 

" Did I say three ? " inquired Mr. Kybird, 
startled at this ready acceptance, 

" Five you said," replied Mr, Nugent, 
" but I'll take three, if you throw in a smile." 

Mr, Kybird, much against his inclinations, 
threw in a faint grin, and opening I drawer 
produced three shillings and flung them 
separately on the counter. Miss Kybird 
thawed somewhat, and glancing from the 
customers clothes to his face saw that he 
had a pleasant eye and a good moustache, 
together with a general air of recklessness 
much appreciated by the sex. 

" Don't spend it on drink," she remarked, 
not unkindly. 

" I won't," said the other, solemnly ; " I'm 
going to buy house property with it." 

"Why, dam my eyes," said Mr. Kybird, 
who had been regarding him closely ; "darn 
my old eyes, if it ain't young Nugent. Well, 

we Original from 




"That's me," said young Nugent, cheer- 
fully ; " I should have known you anywhere, 
Kybird : same old face, same old voice, 
same old shirt-sleeves." 

"'Ere, come now," objected the shop- 
keeper, shortening his arm and squinting 
along it. 

" I should have known you anywhere," 
continued the other, mournfully ; " and here 
I've thrown up a splendid berth and come all 
the way from Australia just for one glimpse 
of Miss Kybird, and she doesn't know me. 
When I die, Kybird, you will find the word 
'Calais' engraven upon my heart." 

Mr. Kybird said, "Oh, indeed." His 
daughter tossed her head and bade Mr. 
Nugent take his nonsense to people who 
might like it. 

" Last time I see you," said Mr. Kybird, 
pursing up his lips and gazing at the counter 
in an effort of memory; "last time I see you 
was one fifth o' November when you an' 
another bright young party was going about 
in two suits o' oilskins wot I'd been 'unting 
for 'igh and low all day long." 

Jack Nugent sighed. " They were happy 
times, Kybird." 

" Might ha* been for you," retorted the 
other, his temper rising a little at the remem- 
brance of his wrongs. 

" Have you come home for good ? " 
inquired Miss Kybird, curiously. " Have 
you seen your father? He passed here a 
little while ago." 

" I saw him," said Jack, with a brevity 
which was not lost upon the astute Mr. 
Kybird. " I may stay in Sunwich, and I 
may not — it all depends." 

" You're not going 'ome ? " said Mr. 


The shopkeeper stood considering. He 
had a small room to let at the top of his 
house, and he stood divided between the 
fear of not getting his rent and the joy to a 
man fond of simple pleasures, to be obtained 
by dunning the arrogant Captain Nugent for 
his son's debts. Before he could arrive at a 
decision his meditations were interrupted by 
the entrance of a stout, sandy-haired lady 
from the back parlour, who, having con- 
quered his scruples against matrimony some 
thirty years before, had kept a particularly 
wide-awake eye upon him ever since. 

" Your tea's a-gettin' cold," she remarked, 

Her husband received the news with 
calmness. He was by no means an enthu- 
siast where that liquid was concerned, the 

Digitized by L^OOgle 

admiration evoked by its non - inebriating 
qualities having been always something in 
the nature of a mystery to him. 

"I'm coming," he retorted; "I'm just 
'aving a word with Mr. Nugent 'ere." 

" Well, I never did," said the stout lady, 
coming farther into the shop and regarding 
the visitor. "I shouldn't 'ave knowed 'im. 
If you'd asked me who 'e was I couldn't ha' 
told you — I shouldn't 'ave knowed 'im from 

Jack shook his head. " It's hard to be 
forgotten like this," he said, sadly. " Even 
Miss Kybird had forgotten me, after all that 
had passed between us." 

" Eh ? " said Mr. Kybird. 

" Oh, don't take any notice of him," said 
his daughter. " I'd like to see myself." 

Mr. Kybird paid no heed. He was still 
thinking of the son of Captain Nugent being 
indebted to him for lodging, and the more he 
thought of the idea the better he liked it. 

" Well, now you're 'ere," he said, with a 
great assumption of cordiality, " why not 
come in and 'ave a cup o' tea?" 

The other hesitated a moment and then, 
with a light laugh, accepted the offer. He 
followed them into the small and untidy 
back parlour, and being requested by his 
hostess to squeeze in next to 'Melia at the 
small round table, complied so literally with 
the order that that young lady complained 
bitterly of his encroachments. 

"And where do you think of sleeping 
to-night ? " inquired Mr. Kybird after his 
daughter had, to use her own expressive 
phrase, shown the guest " his place." 

Mr. Nugent shook his head. " I shall get 
a lodging somewhere," he said, airily. 

" There's a room upstairs as you might 
'ave if you liked," said Mr. Kybird, slowly. 
"It's been let to a very respectable, clean 
young man for half a crown a week. Really 
it ought to be three shillings, but if you like 
to ' it at the old price, you can." 

" Done with you," said the other. 

"No doubt you'll soon get something to 
do," continued Mr. Kybird, more in answer 
to his wife's inquiring glances than anything 
else. " Half a crown every Saturday and the 
room's yours." 

Mr. Nugent thanked him, and after making 
a tea which caused Mr. Kybird to congratu- 
late himself upon the fact that he hadn't 
offered to board him, sat regaling Mrs. 
Kybird and daughter with a recital of his 
adventures in Australia, receiving in return a 
full and true account of Sunwich and its 
people up to (fe^ ina | froni 


lO.' 1 


u There's no pride about J im, that's what I 
like," said Mrs. Kybird to her lord and 
master as they sat alone after closing time 
over a glass of gin and water, M He's a nice 
young feller, but bisness is bisness, and 
s'pose you don't get your rent ? " 

"I shall get it sooner or later," said Mr. 
Kybird. "That 
stuck-up father of 
'is 11 be in a fine 
way at *im living 
here. That's wot 
I'm thinking of." 

"I don't see 
why," said Mrs. 
Kybird, bridling. 
4 'Who's Captain 
Nugent, I should 
like to know? We're 
as good as what 'e 
is, if not better. 
And as for the 
gell, if she'd got 
'alf Amelia's looks 
she'd do/ s 

11 'MehVs a fine- 
look i n g gal," 
assented Mr. 
K y b i r d . "I 
wonder " 

He laid his pipe 
down on the table 
and stared at the 
mantelpiece. "He seems very 
struck with 'er," he concluded. 
"I see that directly." 

"Not afore I did," said 

" See it afore you come into 
said Mr. Kybird, triumphantly, 
a strange thing to marry into 

"She's keeping company with young 
Teddy Silk/' his wife reminded him, coldly ; 
"and tf she wasn't she could do better than 
a young man without a penny in 'is pocket 
Pride's a fine thing, Dan'l, but you can't live 
on it." 

" I know what I'm talking about," said Mr, 
Kybird, impatiently, " I know she's keeping 
company with Teddy as well as wot you do, 
Still, as far as money goes, young Nugent'll 
be all right" 

" 'Ow ? " inquired his wife. 

Mr. Kybird hesitated and took a sip of his 

gin and water. Then he regarded the wife of 
his hosom with a calculating glance which at 
once excited that lady's easily kindled wrath. 
"You know I never tell secrets," she cried, 
" Not often," corrected Mr. Kybird, " but 
then I don't often tell you any. Wot wouid 
you say to young Nugent coming into five 


his wife, 


11 It 


'ud be 

'undred pounds 'is mother left ] im when he's 
twenty-five ? He don't know it, but I do." 
" Five 'undred," repeated his wife, "sure?" 
" No," said the other, u I'm not sure, but I 
know. I 'ad it from young Roberts when 'e 
was at Stone and Dartneirs. Five 'undred 
pounds ! I shall get my money all right 
some time, and, if 'e wants a little bit to go 
on with, J e can have it He's honest enough ; 
1 can see that by his manner," 

Upstairs in the tiny room under the tiles 
Mr. Jack Nugent, in blissful ignorance of his 
landlord's generous sentiments towards him, 
slept the sound, dreamless sleep of the man 
free from monetary cares. In the sanctity 
of her chamber Miss Kybird, gazing ap- 
provingly at the reflection of her yellow hair 
and fine eyes in the little cracked looking-glass, 
was already comparing him very favourably 
with the somewhat pessimistic Mr. Silk* 

(To hz continued,) 

by Google 

Original from 

A Glance at " Vanity Fair" 

By J. Holt Schooling. 

[AH the accompanying cartoons are from (he pages of " Vanity Fair" and they are shewn 

here hy special permission*] 


■to -i 

H E first number of Vanity Fair 
was published November 7, 
1868. It was the first of the 
modern weekly society journals. 
In the thirteenth number, pub- 
lished January 30, 1869, the 
first of the famous cartoons was included — 
the long series of the most remarkable por- 
traits of the men who live or who have lived 
prominently in Vanity Fair. We have here 
actual portraits, whose truth is most deftly em- 
phasized by the admixture of caricature— 
not lessened by it. . For this reason one may 
say, rightly that the Vanity Fair cartoons 
more truly show to us the men as they were, 
or as they are, than many a more ambitious 
Canvas painted by an artist who must hot 

introduce that peculiar shade of emphatic 
caricature truth which is contained in the 
brilliant cartoons of Vanity Fair. 

The first cartoon published by Vanity Fair 
was that shown in No. i, of Lord Beacons^ 
field when he was plain Benjamin Disraeli." 
As I have said, it was issued with the 
thirteenth number of Vanity Fair, and it 
was by an accident that this leading feature 
of a well-known society paper was intro- 
duced into its life. One day, thirty-two 
years ago, Mr. Bowles, the proprietor oF 
the paper, chanced to meet at dinner Signor 
Carlo Pellegrini, an Italian refugee, who 
was a clever artist, and the result of that 
chance meeting was the institution of the 
Vanity Fair cartoons. 


ianltaky y>tti, 1869. uv carlo prlleghine. 
Vd/*riL— 2S- 

by L^OOgle 


un y 1 rraTTTQTn 





Cartoon No. 2 
shows us a 
portrait of 
Lord Salisbury in 
the year 1869; 
ihen y he was des- 
cribed by "Jehu 
Junior/' the writer 
of the biographies 
in Vanity Fair^ 
as "too honest a 
Tory for his party 
and his time*" 
Now, he seems to 
us to be a very 
honourable, cap- 
able, level-headed, 
far - seeing states- 
man, who during 
the years 1896- 
1 90 1 has steered 
this country 
through many most 
difficult and com- 


— Lord John 
Russell. He was 
Prime Minister of 
England during 
1 846-1 85 2 and 
during 1865- 1866 ; 
h e was a great 
Libera] states- 
man, quite honest 
and courageous, 
and he died quietly 
in 1878. 

We all know Sir 
William Harcourt. 
He was Mr. W, G. 
G. V. Vernon- 
Harcourt, MP,, 
when cartoon No, 
4 was published in 

The Sage of 
Chelsea — Thomas 
Carlyle — looks at 
us from No. 5, 
He was, says 

" Jehu Junior/' u the stoutest - hearted 

Pagan, tempered by Christianity, that ever 


The cartoon of the Marquis of Lome, 

now Duke of Argyll, No. 6, was published 


plex places of danger created by the pressure 
of foreign affairs. 

In No. 3 we have a picture of Earl Russell 

Digitized by G* 


Original ttqiti 


1 95 

6. — the MA«gi:iS OK LOKNF., iHjix E^V J'ELLhGkLN I. 

in Vanity Fair just after 
merit of his engagement 
Pnncess Louise. 

In No. 7 the 
late Mr. Charles 
Darwin looks glad 
that he has been 
naturally selected 
to survive* Mr. 
Wilkie Collin?, the 
first l( sensation " 
novel is t t is shown 
in No. 8 P 

Mr John Ruskin 
is shown to us in 
cartoon No. 9, as 
he was in the year 
1872* During his 
working days he 
proved himself to 
be "a very Turner 
in the use of Eng- 
lish prose," and he 
was a most gener- 
ous and self-willed 
man. He wrote 
magnificently about 

the announce- art and about other things — political 
to marry the economy, for example— where his claim to 

our admiration is 
more doubtful 

And yet he 
wrote the following 
very sensible letter, 
in May, 1886, to 
a person who had 
asked him for some 
money to pay a debt 
on a chapel :— 

Sir, — [ am scornfully 
amused ac your appeal to 
me. of all people in the 
world the precisely least 
tikcly to give you a far- 
thing ! My first word to 
all men and boys who cart- 
to hear me is, Don't get 
into debt ; starve and go 
to Heaven— but don't bor- 
row. Try first begging \ 
I don't mind, if it's realty 
needful, stealing 1 But 
don't buy thing* you can't 
pay for t And, of all 
manner of debtor*, pious 
people building churches 
they can't pay for are the 
most detestable nonsense 
trv me. Can't you pteach 
and pray behind the hedge* 
— or in a sand-pit, or in 
a coal-hole — firsl 1 And, of 
3*— wtLKJEt collijss, 1672, ^ ^ I frvj AV manner of churches tlus 


J*— WILKItt 



idiotically built > iron 
churches are the damn* 
ablest to me. And, of all 
the sects nf helirvers in 
any ruling spirit -Hindoos t 
Turks, Feather idolaters, 
and Mum ho Jiirnlwj Log 
and Fire Worshippers, who 
want churches. your 
modern English Evangeli- 
cal sect is the most absurd, 
and entirely object LonahUe 
and unendurable to me E 
All which they might very 
easily have found out from 
my cooks — any other sort 
of s^ct would ! — helWe 
bothering me towiiieii 10 
them. Ever, nevertheless* 
and in all r his saying, your 
faithful servant, John 


The recipient of 
this pleasing letter 
promptly sold it, 
and so got some 
money for his tin- 
pot chapel 

Cartoon No. 10 
represents Mr. 
Frederick Leigh- 
ton j A. R« A + , a 
beautiful man with 
a delicate taste for 
form and colour, 
who in later life 

o. — john kuskiXj rSyz. 

became Lord 
Leighton, P.R.A. 

The next ear- 
too^ No. 11, is 
very interesting, 
apart from its in- 
trinsic merit as a 
fine portrait of the 
late Professor 
Richard Owen — 
the eminent zoo- 
logist, anatomist, 
and palaeontologist 
(I don't know what 
this last word 
means) — shortly, 
he was called "Old 
Bones." For this 
fine cartoon is the 
first that was done 
for Vanity Fair by 
Mr, Leslie Ward 
("Spy"), who for 
more than twenty- 
eight years has 
been so prominent 
in the Vanity Fair 


:ized by OC 


1 r.— reorss^pra^ j^jjflif 





13.— ANTHONY THOLLOFE, 1 B73. Bv iVAkl 

Mr Leslie Ward is 
the son of the late 
E, M. Ward, R.A,, and 
of Henrietta Ward, the 
painter, and he is also 
the great-grandson of 
James Ward, R.A., so 
famous " Spy " has a 
plenty of artistic talent 
in his heredity* He 
*as educated at Eton, 
he is a sportsman, and 
the most modest of 
men as to his own 
work, which is, as we 
shall see for ourselves, 
fully equal to the best 
thing that Carlo Pelle- 
grini ever did. More- 
over, Mr. Ward is able 
to make a good car- 
toon out of any of his 
long list of subjects 
awaiting weekly execu- 
tion : but Pellegrini, 
who was a chartered 
libertine, would under- 


by GoO^lc 


J*E[-l-&,R].Mi j-u , = , W i 

Original fn 

1 i-:]. 1. 1 m. 

Like only those car- 
toons whose subjects 
were obviously well 
adapted to caricature 
representation in Vanity 

Mr, Leslie Ward be- 
came connected with 
Vt 1 n it) r pn ir in 1873 by 
the chance sight that 
Sir John Millais got of 
one of yount; Wind's 
caricatures* Millais was 
a friend of Leslie 
Ward's father, and he 
promptly marched the 
young artist off to Mr. 
Gibson Bowles at the 
office of Vanity Fair^ 
and introduced him 
with the words, " Here 
is the man you want ! " 

Mr. Leslie Ward 

as the man wanted, 





I& — Lt>Rl> KOSKKKKV, 1876, RY LESLIE WA Rt>. 

and he has remained 
" wanted " by Vanity 
Fair and by the 
British public ever 

His cartoon in No. 
T2j of Mr. Anthony 
Trollope, did not 
please the novelist, 
but the late- Edmund 
Yates was so im- 
pressed by the truth 
of this cartoon that 
when he was starting 
his newspaper, The 
World, Mr. Yates 
asked Leslie Ward to 
do a cartoon for it 
weekly, But Mr, 
Ward was not able 
to undertake the 

No. 13 was done 
by Pellegrini ; its 
subject is the late Sir 
Arthur Sullivan, the 



Ifc 77 . 



by Google 

composer of the 
beautiful tuneful 
music which has so 
often been joined in 
the Savoy operas with 
the quaint and 
polished wit of Mr. 
W. S, Gilbert. 

Sir Henry Irving 
was Mister and 
thirty - seven when, 
in 1874, Pellegrini 
made cartoon No. 
i4 f representing 
Henry Irving as 
Afathias in ** The 
Bells " ; a piece of 
acting that, with 
Dtgby Grand in 
"The Two Roses,* 1 
had then lately done 
much to send our 
leading actor to the 





lE. — &ER I,. AI.MA-TAI1KMA, ifl?^ BV I EL LEA i It [ Nl. 

The early portrait of Lord Rosebery seen 
in No. 15 was done by Leslie Ward in 1876, 
when the young Primrose was engrossed with 
his horses and trainers and with getting his 
racing colours— tau dt ni!t and primrose — 
well to the front at Epsom and Ascot The 
concluding and prophetic words of the notice 
in Vanity Fair that faced this cartoon were, 
" He may, if he will, become a statesman 
and a personage." 


Leslie Ward went to Birmingham for 




■-■"- C ' - 

I K 










the purpose of "doing" Cardinal Manning, 
but he did Mr. Chamberlain instead — see 
No. 16. 

The cartoon of Dr. W, G. Grace, No. 17, 
was done in Mr. Leslie Wards studio; VV, 
G. dressed for the occasion. 

Cartoon No. 18, of Sir, L. Alma-Tadema, 
was done hy Pellegrini. 

Mr. John Roberts, the greatest of billiard- 
players, chalks his cue in No. 19. To see 
this man play a series of cannons round the 
table makes one think that the balls are 
Original from 




more modern style of portraiture that 
characterizes Mr, Leslie Ward's work. 

Grim Kitchener looms large in No, 22 — 
a ha rd , long - h ead ed 3 obs t i n a t el y - deci d ed 
soldier, who has made himself by his fore- 
sight, attention to detail, and persistence. 
He won control of the Soudan without a 
mistake, and he is now carrying out in South 
Africa a work in which his characteristic 
virtues are having their sure, if slow, reward. 

21.— L.KiJKti& MEU EDITH, l&g&» liY MAX KELKU|lQHM. 

drawn about by invisible mechanism, so mar- 
vellously easy and true are his strokes. 

No, 20 is the " Industrious Apprentice " 
of years ago, when he and Ix»rd Randolph 
Churchill were both members of the little 
Fourth Party in the House of Commons. 
This most popular statesman is now First 
Lord of the Treasury and Leader of the 
House* He will be Prime Minister. 

Mr. Max Beerbohm's only contribution to 
Vanity Fair is shown in No. 21 — a cartoon 
of Mr. George Meredith— done more after 
the older fashion of caricature than in the 



by Google 

Original from 

Spangle* - 
= =Winged- 

Bv L. T. Meadk 
and Glifford Halifax, 

MAKE no excuse. The odds 
were in favour of virtue, a 
respectable life, and a happy 
conclusion when the time came 
for the curtain to fall. I had 
never suffered the pangs of 
hunger or the anxious throes of poverty — 
my health was good, and my intellect, I was 
proud to think, above the average, I was a 
scientist of no mean attainments, a medical 
man for whom one of the laurel wreaths of 
the profession was a possibility. Nevertheless 
I fell- I plead no excuse; on the contrary, I 
would heap upon myself every epithet of 
censure and contempt, for I of all men should 
have done differently. I fell, and I reap the 
consequences. As I write these words death 
is within a very measurable distance— a few 
more days, and that cold embrace will caress 

But — to begin. 

My name is (leorge Matchen, and I am at 
the present time thirty-two years of age. I 
have a competence of about ^800 a year; 
there has, therefore, never been any absolute 
need for me to earn my own living. I consider 
Such a sufficiency rather a curse than n bless 
ing ; it cuts away from under a man's feet the 
natural desire for that work which means 
bread. I had bread without work, and 
although I had a strong predilection for the 
medical profession, when I found myself fully 
qualified it seemed that I could better serve 
Tiiy fellow-men by taking up what is known 
as preventive medicine than any other branch, 
It was my pleasure to follow in the footsteps 
of the great discoverers who undoubtedly are 
the lights of our profession. Such men as 
Koch, Pasteur, Professor Fraser, San a re Hi, 
and last, but not least, Dr< Patrick Manson, 
were beacon-lights to follow at a measurable 
distance. Manson's recent discoveries with 
regard to malaria aroused my deepest interest, 
and in the summer of last year I determined 
to make investigations on his lines for myself. 
For this purpose I resolved to spend a 
month on the Campagna near Rome. I 
wouldj in imitation of those who had gone 

VoLxxii— 20, 

by Google 

before me, provide myself with a mosquito- 
proof hut with wire gauze doors and windows, 
and carry on my investigations in the most 
malarial district of this unhealthy spot. The 
cause of the spread of malaria was all but 
proved, but the wild hope animated me that 
it might be my happy privilege to discover 
the remedy. If I could prevent the organism 
taking effect in man, or eliminate it when 
once it had entered his body ; and secondly, 
if the mosquito itself could be destroyed, 
malaria, one of the greatest curses to which 
the human race is liable, would cease to 

The mere thought of such a remote and 
glorious contingency made my somewhat 
cold heart beat fast and filled me with a 
laudable enthusiasm. Yes, if I was anything 
I was a scientist, but I had another passion. 
This passion had grown with my growth, 
until silently but surely it had assumed big 

I was deeply and I may say remorselessly 
in love with a young girl of the name of 
Rachel Denza. I say remorselessly, for as 
the sequel will prove my love was absolutely 
and completely selfish. I had known Rachel 
since she was a child. Her father was a 
distinguished colonel in the Army, who 
at the time of this story had retired 
from the Service. Colonel Denza adored 
his only child, and Rachel lived for her 
father. In my eyes she was extremely 
beautiful, although I cannot analyze her 
features. Her whole personality had long 
ago taken such complete possession of my 
heart that I had lifted her quite out of the 
ordinary region of young womanhood. 
When she appeared a soft sunshine seemed 
to come with her, a gentle warmth to emanate 
from her gracious young presence, and a 
complete and absolute contentment to visit 
me- I spoke little in her presence — I never 
made love to her in the ordinary sense — to 
be with her was sufficient That she could 
ever be the wife of another I dismissed as 
an impossibility. For years I had claimed 
her as my own property, and that without 

■_r il 111 1 iii 





any sanction on her part* If she guessed 
that I loved her she never said so. We were 
excellent friends ; Rachel gave me almost 
as many confidences as if I were her hrother t 
and I make tittle doubt now that she had 
not the most remote idea of the passionate 
feelings which animated my breast when I 
looked at her. 

It was on the day before I left England 
for my labours on the Campagna that I first 
ventured to speak openly to Miss Den/a- I 
had written to request a private interview, 
but my letter had not at all prepared her for 
what took place. She was startled, not so 
much by the vehemence of my words as by 
my looks and actions, for when I saw that 
she was unprepared for my declaration of 
love I grew strangely agitated, restless, and 
unlike myself, I paced the room \ I struggled 


to restrain my emotion. When I saw her 
cheeks turn white and her eyes avoid mine, 
anguish, which I little supposed could ever 
visit my heart, took possession of me. But 
for long years I had been training in self- 
control, and I soon managed to compose 

Digitized by Google 

"I have taken you by surprise/' I said; 
li but you know at last Your answer, 
Rachel, your answer ! " 

"You have startled and distressed me," 
she began. 

u You can leave all that out," was my 
reply, " Rachel, is it yes or no ? " 

"I cannot marry you, George," she said 
then, " for I do not love you," 

This was a staggerer, I tried hard to win 
her to make an admission of regard for me. 
She was frightened, but very steadfast in her 

" I shall never marry any man whom I do 
not love," she said, 

"Is it possible you can look me in the 
face and say that you do not love me ? " I 

She did look me full in the face then, and 
her reply, low and quiet, 
felt on my heart like lead. 
" Yes," she said. 
"Then you have de- 
ceived me all these years/* 
" I have never willingly 
deceived you. I had no 
idea of this \ I am terribly 
pained and sorry," 

I turned from her, rage 
as well as agony choking 
my voice. Once again I 
r egai ned my self- con t rol, 
and then [ said, in a low 
voice : — 

"You say that you will 
only marry a man whom 
you love ? " 
"That is so." 
**Then you will marry 

11 1 do not love you." 
"I shall make you love 
me ; when you love me you 
will marry me-" 

ftt I shall never love you 

in that way," she answered. 

"You will," I replied. 

"Rachel, listen. Make up 

your mind, prepare yourself 

for what is going to happen. 

You will never marry any 

man but me ; as there is a 

God in Heaven, I swear that I will be your 

husband r and no one else," 

She started away and I noticed an expression 
of fear coming into her eyes, I did not say any 
more* but my mind was made up. If I had in- 
tended Rachel to be mine before I asked her, 
I was now like a man possessed on the subject. 




The next day I went to Rome. The time 
of year was favourable for my project, Rome 
being distinctly malarial in the month of 
August. I began to make my investigations 
at once. My experiments from the first were 
more for the possible cure of malaria than on 
the cause of its dissemination, but in order 
to attain the one I had to investigate the 
other. It is now no secret that the para- 
site which causes malaria in the human 
subject is to be jbund within the bodies of 
certain mosquitoes. The special mosquito 
which disseminates this terrible disease has 
spotted wings and lays boat-shaped eggs. 
For the purpose of this story it is unnecessary 
to go too much into the scientific question, 
it being sufficient to say that when this 
mosquito has a meal off a man infected with 
malaria it can, and does, convey the disease 
to the next healthy person whom it bites. 
Up to the present only the mosquito with 
spangled wings, the anopheles, has been 
discovered which is capable of conveying 
this dire infection from man to man, but in 
all probability there are many others of the 
species whick can perform equally deadly 
work. As anopheles abounded on the 
portion of the Campagna where I had placed 
my hut I had abundant opportunities of 
studying them. Having taken the necessary 
precautions, and being in any case, as I 
considered, impervious to the bite of the 
mosquito, I remained free from the dread 
disease, and could occupy myself all 
day long in watching the natives of the 
place, who suffered much from the most 
malignant type of malaria, taking notes with 
regard to their various symptoms and examin- 
ing the anopheles themselves. Thus I was 
occupied from morning till night, but it was 
when I lay down to sleep that the thought of 
Rachel returned to me. My madness with 
regard to her grew greater, not less. Each 
day I was more firmly resolved to make her 
my wife at any cost, and to inspire in her 
some of the passion for me which I felt so 
strongly for her. I had been a month on the 
Campagna when one morning I received the 
following letter : — 

" My Dear George, — After our last pain- 
ful interview I feel that it is only due to us 
both that I should inform you at as early a 
date as possible of my engagement." 

The letter fell from my hands — an ugly 
word dropped from my lips. I was con- 
scious of a strange faintness round my heart ; 
then, uttering a savage curse, I sprang to my 
feet, took up Rachel's letter, and as I paced the 
narrow liruUs of the hut continued to read it : — 

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"I have just promised to marry Captain 
Channing, of the Lancers, whose regi- 
ment r.cted so brilliantly in the late Boer 
campaign. Geoffrey was invalided home, 
and we met a few weeks ago at the house of 
my cousins, the Pryors. From the first we 
liked each other, and when he asked me to 
be his wife I found that I loved him, and 
gladly accepted him. I do not mind telling 
you, George, who have always been my good 
friend, that I love Geoffrey with all my heart, 
and look forward with delight to our future. 
I hope you will send me your congratula- 
tions. I am the happiest girl in existence. 
You will be glad to know this, I am sure. 

" I hope you are progressing satisfactorily 
with your work — some people say that it is a 
dangerous time to be in Rome. I only wish, 
my dear George, I could introduce you to 
Geoffrey. — Yours sincerely, Rachel Denza." 

To this letter I sent an immediate and 
brief reply. 

" My Dear Rachel," I wrote, — " I wish 
you happiness and prosperity. I consider 
Captain Channing a lucky man. Pray invite 
me to your wedding, and may our friend- 
ship continue. — Yours sincerely, George 

I posted this letter myself in Rome, and 
then returned down the Appian Way to my 
hut on the Campagna. 

As I walked, looking outwardly calm 
and quiet enough, I was, within, nothing 
short of a smouldering volcano. The threat 
which I used in Rachel's presence was no 
idle one, and although I had written to her 
with such apparent coolness, I was resolved 
at any cost to carry it out to the bitter end. 
Rachel should never marry Channing: Rachel 
should be my wife at any cost. When a man 
gives himself over to such feelings as now 
animated me he is in danger of losing his 
mental balance, but I was naturally cool and 
wise, and had not the slightest idea of 
handing myself over to the penalties of the 
law. There was a strange beating in my 
heart and an answering pulse in my temples. 
Inwardly I was as a man torn and wronged. 
Between me and the time before I had 
received Rachel's letter spread an im- 
measurable distance. Before the arrival 
of that letter I was practically a humane 
scientist who loved his work and wished 
to benefit his fellow - men. Now, every 
thought was concentrated on one idea — 
how could I frustrate Channing, how could 
I make Rachel my wife? Before I slept 
that night I took the first step towards my 
terrible faU^ -Lzhad ^a distant cousin of the 




name of Marian Fletcher. She was a tall, 
dark, handsome girl, dashing in appearance 
and up-to-date in manner. She was the sort 
of woman I had always cordially disliked, 
but unfortunately for me I had the extreme 
penalty of attracting 
her, I was not con- 
ceited enough to sup- 
pose that she loved 
me, although I did 
know that I had 
always exercised an 
influence over her. 
From our earliest 
days Marian would 
do my bidding, and, 
imperious and wilful 
to others, would be 
little less than a slave 
to me. Now it oc- 
curred to me that 
she was the sort of 
woman to be my tool 
Marian was visiting 
friends in the south 
of England. I knew 
her address, for we 
kept up a rather per- 
functory correspond- 
ence, at least on my 
part. I wrote to her 
now on ordinary 
matters, but in the 
course of the letter I 
mentioned that I had 
heard of Rachel's 
engagement, and I 
begged Marian to 
furnish in-.- with any 
particulars she could 
with regard to the 
character, ways of life, and circumstances of 
Captain Channing, In about a week's time 
I received a reply to this letter, Its contents 
were of deeper interest than even I had hoped 
" Mv Dear George," wrote Marian,— " In 
reply to your letter I have a good deal to say. 
It is in my power to give you much informa- 
tion with regard to Rachel Denza's engage- 
ment. In the first place, the marriage 
between her and Captain Channing must be 
performed between now and the ist of 
January next year, for by the will of 
Geoffrey Chanmng's late uncle, Sir Edward 
Mar bury, he loses a large estate unless 
he marries before that date. Geoffrey 
is well off even without this money, but 
with it he will be an extremely rich man, 
able to give his wife every luxury, Now, 

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pray listen to the divers and sundry chances 
which this world sometimes offers. You will 
start when I tell you that Geoffrey and I are 
first cousins : that Sir Edward Mar bury was 
the uncle with whom I spent the greater part 

of my youth ; and 
that if by any chance 
Geoffrey fails to 
marry before the ist 
of January has ex- 
pired, I, Marian 
Fletcher, come in for 
the property which 
he loses, I have no 
wish, believe me, to 
deprive him of bis 
money, for I have 
abundance of my 
own ; but at the same 
time his engagement 
more than interests 
me. When our 
uncle's will was read 
and this curious pro- 
viso was d i s covered 
Geoffrey was very 
angry and said he 
would never marry 
anyone, fortune or 
no fortune, except 
for love, Now, my 
dear George, I be- 
lieve that Geoffrey 
has absolutely kept 
his word, Until he 
met Rachel he had 
never loved any 
woman. You ask 
about his character 
— he is honourabie, 
good-looking, and by 
most people considered a very captivating 
man. I am fully convinced that he would 
far rather lose the fortune which will be his 
on the day he marries Rachel than satisfy 
the conditions of his uncle's will without 
love. Can any woman praise a man further? 
Well, luck attend him — he has won a prize 
amongst women- There seldom was a more 
beautiful woman than Rachel .; you know 
that, She is not without means on her own 
account j although she could scarcely be 
called wealthy; but that fact matters little, 
Tor Rachel is in love ; yes, George, madly, 
desperately in love, and love has transformed 
her. It has added to her beauty and 
accentuated her grace. She is now one of 
the most lovely women I have ever seen. 
They both make a splendid couple- It is 








good to see two people so happy ; or, George 
Matchen — is it good ? Does it not stir certain 
qualities in the hearts of the spectators which 
are not altogether those of virtue ? Forgive 
me, I have sometimes fancied that you had 
a tender place in your heart for the beautiful 
Miss Denza. Do you too lose by this 
marriage? — then we ought to sympathize 
one with the other, for if you lose the woman 
I lose the fortune. Have I anything more 
to tell you ? Oh, yes. Colonel Denza has 
not been well and his doctors have ordered 
him to winter in Cairo. The entire party go 
to Egypt about the middle of November, 
where they will remain until after the wedding. 
Captain Channing of course accompanies 
them, and so also does your humble servant. 
Rachel in a letter which I have just received 
says she has heard from you and that you 
have given her your congratulations. Are 
these straight from your heart ? I query. — 
Yours sincerely, Marian Fletcher." 

Marian's letter was the beginning of a 
frequent correspondence between us, the 
result being that the day came when I packed 
my traps, took my mosquito-hut to pieces, 
and started for Egypt a week after the 
Denzas had gone there. I too had made up 
my mind to winter in Cairo. The Denzas 
and their party put up at the Continental 
Hotel, but I took rooms at Shepheard's. 
For various reasons I preferred not to be 
under the same roof as Rachel. But I had 
not been six hours in Cairo before we met 
I went to the Continental, and she greeted 
me in the great hall which forms one of the 
principal features of the place. Several 
visitors were standing about, and there was 
no one to notice the man who walked 
gravely forward and shook hands with the 
lovely girl who stood up and greeted him. 
No one could guess in the grave face of this 
man, in his few courteous words, that the 
passion of a murderer was consuming his 

" How well you look, George," said 
Rachel, and it seemed to me at that instant 
that she mocked me. 

There was a wild beating in my ears, and 
her next words were almost inaudible. Then 
emotion passed away and I became watchful, 
circumspect, and resolved at any cost to hide 
my feelings. 

"I must introduce you to Geoffrey," she 
said. "It is so good of you to have come 
to Cairo ; your presence will just make our 
party complete. Ah, and here is Geoffrey. " 

She moved a step or two away, said some- 
thing to a man who advanced to meet us, 

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and the next moment Captain Channing and 
I had met. I looked him all over, taking his 
measure at a glance. When my eyes lit 
upon his well -formed face, his open and 
handsome brown eyes ; when I perceived 
how kind Nature had been in giving him 
not only all the exterior attributes of manly 
beauty, but had further endowed him with a 
right, good, and honourable heart, I hated 
him with intense satisfaction. It was more 
agreeable to me in my present mood to hate 
than to love, but I had to be wary. 

My conversation as I talked to Channing 
was light and agreeable ; our laughter rang 
out. Presently Colonel Denza and Marian 
appeared. Although we both knew that we 
should meet in Cairo we each of us expressed 
surprise at seeing the other. 

" How nice this is ! " said Marian, and as 
she spoke she looked me full in the face, and 
I beheld in her big, black eyes a look of 
knowledge, I felt uncomfortable — she seemed 
to read me through. But she quickly put 
me at my ease by suggesting that we should 
all sit out on the moonlit terrace and enjoy 
our coffee and cigarettes. Towards the end 
of the evening Rachel and I found ourselves 
for a moment alone. She turned immediately 
and just touched my hand with hers. 

" How good you are, George ! " she said. 
" You make me so happy. It is kind of you 
to be nice to Geoffrey." 

"But why should I not be friendly, my 
dear Rachel ? " was my answer. 

She raised her brows a very little. 

" It makes me happy," she said, simply. 

I knew what she was thinking of. She was 
quite silent for a moment, and the moonlight 
fell on her slender figure. She looked, I 
thought, ethereal. 

"I cannot help thinking of your words," 
she began. 

I interrupted her. 

" Rachel," I said, in a hoarse voice, " let 
the curtain drop between the past and the 
present ; a man is not accountable for what 
he says when he is mad." 

" And you are sane now, George, are you 
not ? " she asked, in a tone of great relief. 


" How glad I am ! You do not mind my 
talking to you now and then of my great 
happiness ? " 

" Treat me as your old friend, Rachel, and 
tell me what you will." 

" We are to be married," she said, " two 
days after Christmas, in a little over three 
weeks. We are going to India for our 
wedding trip.5 ri 




I bowed. 

" You will be present at my wedding, will 
you not, George ? " 

" Certainly," I answered* I said this 
with marked emphasis, for as I intended 
to be the bridegroom on that auspicious 
occasion I should, of course, not be absent 

A moment later I took my leave. As I 
was going from the Continental to Shephcard's 
Hotel, a distance of a few yards, I saw under 
the shade of the big terrace the figure of 
Marian Fletcher. She stretched out her 
hand as I passed and touched me, 

" You did it very well indeed," she said, 
"and you gave yourself away to no one but 

II What do you mean by saying that, 
Marian ?" I replied. 

" I have acquired the power of reading 
your heart," she answered. "It is a subtle 
one, George Matchen, but I have the gift of 
reading it through and through/' 

u May I not see you back to the Con- 
tinental ? " was my answer. 

"You may when we have walked up and 
down here in the shade. I came out on 
purpose. No one will see us, and even if 
anyone does I do not care. We are old 
friends, and I must 
know exactly the part 
I am to play,'* 

II The part you are 
to play?" I replied, my 
heart beating quickly. 

II I intend to help 
you/* she answered, 
and she laid her hand 
on my arm. 

Rachel's hand was 
the last to touch me 
— it seemed to me 
now that Marian's 
touch was profana- 
tion. I started away, 
almost rudely. She 
observed the gesture, 
and her black eyes 

" The wedding 
takes place in three 
weeks, ,J she said. 
" You are agreeable, 
of course?" 

" It shall never 
take place/ 3 I an- 
swered, in a low 
voice. 4t I have vowed, 
and I mean to keep 
my vow/ 1 

by Google 

41 Bravo ! " she answered me. " I thought 
as much. George, I too have good reason 
to wish this marriage not to take place,' 1 

(( By the way, of course you have/ 1 I 
replied. " How much money comes to you 
if Channing fails to marry before the ist of 
January ? " 

"My late uncle's house and estate, and 
something like ^50,000 in Consols. A biy 
fortune," she continued, "hut I do not care 
so much for that ; something else influences 

"What?" I asked. 

"You/ 5 she replied. "You, George 
Matchen. Do you not know that I love 

"Do not say it, Marian," I answered, 

"It is easy to say * Don't,'" she replied, 
" when the deed is done, and when nothing 
can alter facts. Do you know how many 
men I have refused for your sake ? And, 
yes, even if I do receive that fortune, I vow 
that I will marry no one but you. You have 
made a vow to marry one woman, while 
another woman has made a vow to marry 
you, Now you see your position," 
I laughed somewhat ruefully, 

" You do not put 
things too plea- 
santly," I said. 

M You will acqui- 
esce by -and -by, for 
you must," she re- 
plied. 1( But we must 
both clearly under- 
stand. You do not 
wish the marriage — 
we both have strong 
reasons why it should 
never take place. We 
both intend to act 
with cleverness, we 
both intend to hide 
our real feelings; that 
is enough for to-night, 
our further considera- 
tion must be how we 
are to take the steps 
we wish to take," 

"Aye," I said. 
Marian.' 1 

She did not take 
my hand thfs time ; 
she glided away, I 
returned to my 
hotel, but not to 

'"■"THE**™*. Original f rc m a 




During my recent experiments on the 
Campagna I had followed Manson's dis- 
coveries. The spangle - winged mosquito, 
small, light as air, almost transparent, scarcely 
visible to the naked eye, carried within its 
tiny body a weapon of death almost as sure 
and certain as the assassin's knife. 

Before leaving the precincts of that 
malarial district I had secured several of 
these mosquitoes in a bottle. The bottle 
was, of course, provided with a breathing 
apparatus, and in order to keep the insects 
alive I fed them on bananas, but I knew 
that in order to insure the truth of Man- 
son's theory I must give the mosquitoes a 
malarial victim to feed upon. How could 
I find such a victim ? 

To-night I examined my treasures. I 
held the bottle between myself and the light. 
They seemed in good condition. I lay 
down to sleep in the small hours and my 
sleep was troubled by dreams. I awoke 
early, jumped up and dressed hastily. After 
breakfast I determined to pass away the 
morning hours in the far-famed bazaars. As 
I walked there now through the crowded 
streets, the air, light, dry, exhilarating, in- 
sensibly cheered my spirits ; the weight 
which had lain against my heart lifted, 
and although my mind was irrevocably 
made up I determined to enjoy the present. 
As I strolled along the narrow streets, knock- 
ing up against Arabs and Egyptians as I did 
so, and finally entered under the low portal 
which led to the bazaars, I wondered if I 
should meet Rachel here. Most girls like to 
visit these homes of curiosities and articles of 
vertu. I thought of Rachel and of her alone 
as I passed between the gaily set-out counters, 
and listened to the eager remarks of the 
merchants as they advertised their wares. I 
thought of Rachel's glorious eyes, the ring in 
her voice, the immeasurable comfort which 
one glance at her afforded me. I should be 
a madman indeed if I did not make a frantic 
struggle to secure so great a prize. I walked 
on and on, shouted to in broken English 
by the Arabs as they stood behind their 
counters. But the moonstones, the tur- 
quoises, the bracelets, the necklets, the ker- 
chiefs, the rich embroideries, did not attract 
me ; I saw them without seeing them. Pre- 
sently I passed right through the bazaar 
of varieties, down through the Turkish 
quarters, and into the Silver Bazaar. Here 
one could see the metal itself formed into 
bangles, bracelets, and brooches before one's 
eyes. It was the fashion for each visitor in 
Cairo to visit this special bazaar. A more 

Digitized by LiOOglC 

dangerous and hideous-looking place it was 
scarcely possible to find. There was barely 
room for me to walk between the stalls ; men 
of all Eastern nationalities, Arabs, Egyptians, 
Bedouins, Syrians, peered at me as I passed 
by. The crafty face of a Greek looked 
into mine ; the suave, smooth, expressionless 
countenance of an Arab was within a foot or 
two of my own face. It would, I knew, be 
easy for these men to bind me hand and foot, 
to rob and murder me, and there would be 
an end for all time of George Matchen ; but 
no one was interested in me to that 
extent. I passed by, buying nothing and 
exciting no comment whatsoever. I was 
just about to come out again when a man 
who was standing by a counter and examin- 
ing some soft silver bangles attracted my 
attention. The place was lit artificially, and 
the flame of a torch fell on his face. I 
stopped when I saw him, and a spasm of 
mingled agony and delight crossed my heart. 
He was a sad-looking object — his face was 
so thin that the bones all but protruded ; it 
was sallow, too, with a sickly sallowness 
which spoke of deranged liver and blood- 
poisoning ; his black eyes were sunken in his 
head ; he coughed as he spoke, and as I 
approached him and stared almost rudely 
into his face I saw him shiver as if with 
sudden rigor. Beyond doubt, dark as was 
his complexion, he was a European — perhaps 
an Englishman ; beyond doubt, also, he was 
suffering from malaria. I knew this at once ; 
I knew also that the malaria which was drain- 
ing his life-blood was of the kind known as 
malignant. Now, all malarias are intermittent, 
and this man was in the stage of this fell 
disease when the fever for a short time had 
relaxed its grip. He completed his bargain 
with the silver merchant and I followed him 
out of the bazaar. He took no notice what- 
ever of me, but walked languidly, tottering 
slightly as he did so. Suddenly he almost 
fell. This was my opportunity. I went 
quickly to his side and offered him my arm. 

u You are ill," I said, speaking in French. 
" Can I assist you to a carriage ? " 

He replied to me at once in excellent 

" I was mad to come out," he said. 
" Thank you for your courtesy. I shall be 
very much obliged if you will see me into a 

I observed that he was past all other 
speech. I led him gently to the end of the 
street and put him into a carriage. He gave 
the driver the name of the Continental 
Hotel. Again there came a grip at my 

^*^ . . r 1 i 

-- 1 I L| 1 1 I >.l I \\\ 





heart, but this time ii was altogether one of 

Cairo is perhaps the last place on earth 
where malaria is to be found ; the extreme 
dryness of the climate makes such a disease 
all but impossible. This man, therefore, 
must have come to Cairo already attacked. 
I needed such a victim. Beyond doubt he 
was the tool to execute the deadly work 
which I had in hand. That evening I had a 
private conversation with Marian. 

* ( There is a man under this roof very ill," I 
said. " Do you happen to know about him ? " 

"Are you alluding to Mr. Aldis?" she said 
at once. 

1( Perhaps so/ 1 I replied " I met a man 
to-day at the Silver Bazaar ; he was suffering 
from malignant malaria. Oh, it is not 
infectious ; you need not start. I helped him 
to a carriage and he gave the address of this 
hotel. I am interested/' 

Then I looked at her and stopped speak- 
ing. Her face became watchful and eager. 

"Tell me something about malaria," she 
said, in a whisper* 

by Google 

I hated her as she came 
nearer to me; I hated her 
still more when she lowered 
her voice ; all the same, I 
knew I must use her, 

" Malaria in all forms is 
deadly," 1 said. " It works 
havoc on the constitution. 
Malignant malaria as a rule 
kills, and quickly. The man 
I helped to-day will shortly 

II Could you not he of ser- 
vice to this suffering indi- 
vidual ? " was her next ques- 
tion, made after a pause. 
"There is doubtless," she 
continued, "no one else in 
Cairo who has so thoroughly 
studied the deadly com- 

"That I am sure is the 
case," I replied. 

" Perhaps you would like 
to see Mr. Aldis?" 

I looked full at her, then 
I lowered my eyes* 

"Wait a moment," she 
said* " I know the manager — 
I will go and speak to him." 
She jumped up and left 
me* In a few minutes she 
returned to my side. 

U I think Mr. Aldis will 
see you," she said, in a whisper. " A message 
has been sent to his apartments. He is very 
ill this evening, but refuses to see any of 
the doctors of the place* It is possible, 
therefore^ that he may give you the pleasure 
of prescribing for him." 

" Then, in that case," I answered, abruptly, 
" I will leave the hotel for a few minutes. If 
a message comes in my absence keep it for 
me, will you ? ?? 

I went straight to Shrplu arris, I reached 
iny own room. There I took a bottle which 
contained my pet mosquitoes from its hiding- 
place and held it between me and the light* 
Opening this bottle with extreme care I 
transferred two of the winged insects to 
another and smaller bottle. These I chris- 
tened on the spot Lucifer and Diabolts. I 
smiled strangely as I w T atched their attenuated, 
shadowy forms. They immediately settled 
themselves at the bottom of the bottle* They 
looked languid ; doubtless they were weak 
for want of their proper food* 

" I am prepared, my friends, to give you a 
meal to-night," I said to them. 
Original from 




I slipped the bottle into my pocket and 
went back to the hotel. 

" Oh, George," said Rachel, the moment I 
appeared, "there is a poor man dreadfully 
ill upstairs ; the concierge has been to 
inquire for you ; the man, a Mr. Aldis, wants 
to know if you will pay him a professional 

"With pleasure," I replied. "Ah, there 
is the concierge ; I will speak to him." 

I went up to the man, said a few words, 
and a moment later was taken up in the lift 
to Aldis's room. He had a large room on 
the third floor. The man flung open the 
door, announced — " Dr. George Matchen," 
and shut it behind him. The patient was 
bending over a wood fire in all the first 
rigor of a terrible attack. 

" How do you do ? " he said, just nodding 
to me and speaking with difficulty, for his 
teeth chattered so. " I have to thank you 
for your kindness to-day ; I did not know, 
then, that I was being helped by a doctor, 
and one who the manager tells me has 
specially studied the infernal disease which 
is bringing me to the grave. I do not 
suppose you can do anything for me, but 
all the same it is kind of you to call." 

" I may possibly be able to give you a 
little relief," was my reply. Then I sat down 
by his side and asked him a few questions. 

He was far gone, indeed, with acute 
malignant malaria. He told me he had 
contracted it in New Guinea, that the 
attacks were becoming more and more 
frequent and his strength, less and less. 
He had fled from the deadly place to Cairo 
hoping to recover, but his own supposition 
was that he was too deeply. imbued with the 
disease for any chance of cure, and was to a 
certainty dying. , ' '\^ ■- 

" I shall never go out again," he said, 
"until I am carried from here. I have 
declined, however, to go to a hospital, and 
I do not want a nurse ; I can manage 

As he spoke he cowered yet nearer to the 
fire. I took out my glass bottle and, un- 
observed by him, removed the cork and let 
one of the spangle-winged mosquitoes free. 
I then turned and sat down near the patient. 

I tried to draw him to talk on other 
matters, but he was too ill even to answer my 
questions. I knew that I was cruel, almost 
brutal ; but was he not my tool — should I not 
be a madman to lose this chance of acquiring 
what I desired ? Presently there sounded on 
my ears the well-known musical hum of a 
mosquito. It came nearer and yet nearer : 


VoL xxii.— 27. 

passing me by, it selected the sick man as its 
victim. A moment later and my spangle- 
winged beauty alighted on the invalid's hand. 
He immediately raised the other hand to 
brush it off, but before he could do so I 

"One moment," I cried; "this is most 
curious. Let me secure this mosquito; it is 
surely not one of the ordinary kind one finds 

As I spoke I laid my hand lightly on the 
mosquito. It fluttered in its unwelcome 
prison. I put it back into my bottle. The 
invalid gazed at me in astonishment. 

" The brute has bitten me," he said. " It 
is early in the year for mosquitoes in Cairo, 
but I have been bitten before." 

"Indeed," I answered, with eagerness. 
" Yes, I see you have mosquito curtains round 
your bed." 

" The season has been so warm that they 
have never died off as is their usual habit," 
was his answer. " But excuse me, doctor, I 
think I shall get into bed ; the second stage 
of my disease is approaching." 

I now changed my manner and helped 
him to the utmost of my ability. I sat 
with him until the fury of the attack had 
spent itself, and it was late before I left 
his room. 

From that hour Frank Aldis was my patient. 
I visited him once or twice a day. I spoke 
to my friends downstairs of the interesting 
case which had come under my notice. I 
specially mentioned how extremely favourable 
it was for my special investigations. Marian 
watched me morning, noon, and night — she 
. was intensely interested ; Captain Channing 
.mildly so ; but Rachel scarcely listened to 
me\ For the time she was altogether ab- 
sorbed ; it was her nature to be polite to 
everyone, but I could see that she lived in 
a dream-world, and only Captain Channing's 
voice and Captain Channing's face had power 
to make her heart awake. I saw the light of 
love in her eyes whenever she looked at him — 
but for that look which was never directed to- 
wards me I might have paused and considered ; 
as it was I was obdurate. I had now fed all 
my mosquitoes one by one from the veins 
of my malarious patient, but Lucifer and 
Diabolis I still kept in a bottle by themselves 
— they were fully primed to do what destruc- 
tion lay in their power. Meanwhile the days 
flew. Christmas Day arrived, and two days 
afterwards the wedding was to take place. 
On that day Marian watched me much 
as a cat watches a mouse. As to Captain 
Channing and Rachel., they were more and 




more absorbed in each other. On Christmas 
night I knew that the time had come to 
strike. For this purpose I must secure the 
services of Marian Fletcher, I asked her, 
therefore, as the evening approached to stroll 
with me on the terrace. The night was 
balmy, like an English midsummer There 
were several guests sitting about ; the waiters 
in their quaint Oriental costumes were darting 
here and there supplying the different small 
tables with coffee and cigarettes. Marian 
and I moved into the shade where no one 
walked or lingered. 
" Well ? " she said 

I turned to her. "Will you help me?" 
I asked, 

" On a condition," she replied, very slowly, 

II You come in for the fortune, Marian, that 
is the condition," 

41 You marry me, George, That is my 
condition," she answered 

I looked her full in the eyes* 

"You ask the impossible," I said. "I 
want to remove a certain man from my path 
because I love the girl who is engaged to 
him. How can you expect me to marry 

"This is a case 
of revenge," she 
answered, lightly* 
" You deprive 
Rachel Denza of 
her lover and her 
fortune, but you 
marry me after- 
wards. T h e 
whole thing is 
well conceived, 
and I can and 
will help you." 

I was silent, 
thinking hard. 
I could not do 
what I intended 
to do without her 
help ; at the same 
time nothing on 
this earth would 
induce me to 
marry her. 

" Listen, Ma- 
rian," I said, 
softly. "What 
we do we must 
do to-night You 
and I step down 
from the paths of 
respectability and 
enter the shady 

C'tod look liki 


paths of crime— deliberate and wicked crime 
—to-night. We will talk of the conditions 
afterwards. If you fail to help me on this 
night, which is already upon us, it will be 
too late." 

"In any case I get the fortune," she said, 
softly, under her breath. u What am I to do 
to-nighL, Dr. Matt-hen ? " 

I took a glass bottle from my pocket. 
" In this," 1 said, " is a mosquito." 
She laughed. 

"Really," she answered; "we descend 
from the sublime to the ridiculous. I am 
not partial to mosquitoes ; one got inside 
my curtains last night and bit me savagely 
on my neck ; my neck is inflamed. Did 
you not notice the ugly mark at dinner ? " 

"I did nol, rt I replied. " But listen, pray. 
There are mosquito curtains> are there not, 
round all the beds?" 
M Of course." 

"In what room does Captain Channing 
sleep, Marian ? " 

" On the same corridor with the rest of 
our party. All our rooms adjoin ; his is the 
farthest off, then Colonel Denza's, then mine, 

then Rachel's." 

"Then your 
course is easy," I 
answered. " Pray 
go upstairs some 
time this evening 
when no one is 
by, enter Cap- 
tain Channing J s 
room, open the 
curtains of his 
bed, and let the 
insect which rests 
in this bottle 
have its freedom 
inside the cur- 
tains. When you 
are quite certain 
that it is safe 
within, tuck the 
curtains down 
again and come 
away. The work 
is easy," I con- 
tinued, and I 
gave a light 

" Work easy, 
pay heavy, rt she 

Just then a 
waiter carrying a 
tray with glasses 




passed us. The reflection of a bright light 
in one of the rooms of the hotel caused 
the glasses to gleam. There was a second 
reflection on Marian's face and on mine. 

" You look like a murderer," she hissed, 
"and you want me to be one, too." 

44 Ask no questions," I replied. " What is 
a mosquito ? Keep your secret. If you do 
your work well you will at least be an 
heiress, one of the richest women in England. 

I thrust the bottle which contained Dia- 
bolis into her hand. Diabolis was full-fed 
and ripe to pursue his deadly work. 

The next morning, by invitation, I break- 
fasted at the Continental with the Denzas. 
The whole party were in high spirits. Cap- 
tain Channing, in particular, looked in 
radiant health ; but I noticed to my own 
intense satisfaction that he rubbed his cheek, 
and I observed the small but sure bite of a 
mosquito in the little red patch which irri- 
tated him. RachePs eyes met mine ; she 
noticed the direction of Captain Channing's 
hand, and, bending towards him, said : — 

" So you were the victim last night ? " 

" What do you mean ? " he asked, turning 
to her. 

" I was bitten the night before ; I see that 
those horrid creatures attacked you last 

" Do you mean the mosquitoes ? " he 
asked, immediately. "It is surprising that 
they should be active at this time of the year. 
Of course, one knows there are always a few 
in Cairo, but a most persistent brute had got 
into my mosquito curtains ; it worried me 
indescribably : I managed, however, to kill it 
at last." 

So Diabolis was dead ! I smiled grimly to 
myself. Captain Channing jumped up and 
asked Rachel if she had finished breakfast. 
They went out together ; Marian and I found 
ourselves alone. 

" When will the poison begin to work ? " 
she asked. 

44 Hush ! " 1 replied. " Walls have ears." 

" But when ? " she persisted. 

" Probably this afternoon." 

" Is one dose sufficient ? " 

" It would be safer to give a second," was 
my answer, after a moment's hesitation. "Can 
you help me to do this, Marian ? " 

"Certainly I can. Will you let me have 
the bottle which contains the insect before 
night ? " 

I nodded. She looked full at me. 

"You clearly understand what my collabora- 
tion in this matter implies?" 

Digitized by UOOgle 

" You get the money," was my answer. 

"And the man," she continued. 

I shrugged my shoulders. 

"You know, Miss Fletcher," I said, "that I 
only love one woman, Rachel Denza." 

" And she is good," replied Marian, slowly. 
" A nice husband you would make for a good 
woman ! You had much better be content 
with me. Like ought to mate with like in 
this world. I at least shall never reproach 
you, for we shall both be in the same box." 

I made no answer. Not one single thrill 
of remorse had visited me. If I ever had 
a heart it was now hard as iron. I was 
only thinking of the result which a second 
dose of poison would certainly produce. 
Rachel, deprived both of fortune and lover, 
must assuredly turn to me. My work could 
not be spoilt now. I must soothe and satisfy 
Marian later on, but at any cost she must 
complete what she had begun. 

Just then Rachel came up to us. Her face 
was a little pale and a trifle anxious. 

" I am so glad you have not gone," she 
said, eagerly. "Geoffrey is not well; he 
complains of shivering and headache. It 
is impossible that he could have caught 
malaria, but certainly the symptoms seem 
very like those from which Mr. Aldis suflers." 

" Do not be anxious," I replied. " Malaria 
is not infectious in the ordinary sense, but I 
will go and see him ; where is he ?" 

" He has gone to his room to lie down ; he 
feels very sick." 

" Better and better," I whispered to myself. 

I ran upstairs and saw Channing. He 
had slight rigor, which I knew would soon 
increase ; he had also sick headache. He 
could not understand his own sensations. 

" Give me something to put me right, 
won't you, Matchen ? " he said, when he saw 
me. "It is no end of a nuisance to be 
knocked up to-day, for remember I marry 
Rachel to-morrow." 

" That you do not, sir," was my inward 

Aloud I said : — 

" I will prescribe something for you, and 
the main thing is not to worry." 

I went downstairs and ordered a harmless 
compound. It was by no means my inten- 
tion to cut the attack short, even if I could 
do so. 

In the evening I inquired for Captain 
Channing. He was now very ill, indeed, 
and all thought of to-morrow's ceremony was 
abandoned. Colonel Denza was anxious 
and spoke to me. 

" I hope Channing will be able to be 




married on the following day," he said. 
"You have doubtless heard of the curious 
will which provides him a fortune if he takes 
io himself a wife before or on the first of the 
New Year?" 

11 1 have he:ird of it," I replied, briefly. 
11 He is suffering from malaria, and there are 
symptoms which point to a malignant type, 
but I hope the attack will have died down by 
the morning." 

Colonel Denza looked very anxious. I 
saw that I was not wanted, and w r ent back to 
my hotel 

I returned later to put my glass bottle into 
Marian Fletcher's hand 

" I am appointed nurse," she said, " for 
the time being ; you see how everything 
suits, but do not forget our bargain." 

I nodded to her and went away. Again, 
that night, callous wretch that I was, I slept, 
but I awoke early and went to the hotel 
Captain Charming had got over the first 
acute attack, and was lying on his pillows, 
languid, weak, and indifferent Rachel was 

I answered, " I do not think you 


igitized by \j 

OK m.K 

standing in the room \ she turned when she 
saw me* 

"This is our wedding-day," she said, "but 
Geoffrey says he cannot marry me to-day." 

" Why, of course not," I replied. " How 
could you be so cruel as to expect it ? " 

She fell on her knees beside his couch and 
took one of his feverish hands in hers. 

" 1 have a headache myself," she said; " it 
is caused by disappointment." 

"Darling, I shall be all right to-morrow," 
he said, and, making an effort, he raised her 
little hand to his lips and kissed it. 

The sight maddened me. I made a 
remark, ordered the prescription which I had 
made up yesterday to be renewed, and left 
the room* Colonel Densa was standing on 
the landing. 

"Well," he said, "how is the patient? 
Any improvement? p 

"There is not the least doubt, Colonel," 
1 replied, "that Captain Charming is suffer- 
ing from malignant malaria. The fact is he 
ought not to marry for some time." 

"He must marry before the ist. We 
must get through the ceremony somehow to- 
" Ah, 

u It is worse than provoking," said the 
Colonel " I do not want to be heartless, 
believe me, Matchen, but to throw away 
such a fortune ! Surely a 
great effort ought to he 
made to comply with the 
uncle's will." 

" I will do my best," I an- 
swered* " But would you like 
to call in another doctor?" 
" Certainly not ; no one 
knows so much about 
malaria as you do*" 

Just then Rachel passed 
me, going languidly and 
very slowly to her room. 
I was struck by the feeble- 
ness of her step and 
followed her. 

"Are you ill, Rachel?" 
I said. "Is this little dis- 
appointment more than 
you can bear?" 

" Believe me, it is not the 
money," she answered, and 
rears filled her lovely eyes. 
bS It is the sight of his suffer- 
ing — the change in his face. 
Oh, vou do not think he 

iginaTiMf ? " 





" No, no," I said, as soothingly as I could. 
" But you really are ill." 

" I do not know what is the matter," she 
answered "I feel much as Geoff did 
yesterday morning, shivery, tired, headachy." 

" You are nervous," I replied. " You can- 
not possibly be contracting malaria. Now, 
go like a good girl and lie down." 

She left me. Again I observed that feeble 
walk. She was a tall, strong girl, but she 
absolutely tottered as she went down the long 
corridor. Her walk reminded me of Aldis as 
he tottered up the street after leaving the 
Silver Bazaar. 

I could not quite account for the strange, 
fierce nervousness which suddenly arose 
within me, nor could I in the least under- 
stand the vague fear which clutched at my 
heart and shook me to the foundations of 
my being. I went downstairs; Marian sat 
reading an English newspaper. She raised 
ber eyes when I approached. 

" All going well, eh ? " she inquired. 

I sat down near her. 

" How can you look so cool and in- 
different?" I said. " Sometimes I wonder 
if you are a woman at alL" 

" As much woman as you are man, dear 
sir," was ber gentle response. " But how go 
the patients ? " 

" The patients ! " I cried. " There is only 
one patient ; he is bad enough, God knows." 

" I fancy there are two," she replied. 

"Two?" I cried. "Two?" 

Then I remembered Rachel's condition. 
I looked full at Marian. My very heart 
stood still — the words I tried to utter froze 
on my lips. 

"There are likely to be two," continued 
Marian, in a low tone. She stood up as 
she spoke. " Come out on the terrace, Dr. 

I followed her. The terrace was absolutely 
deserted. We stood side by side in the 
shade caused by the big hotel. The sunshine 
blazed hot everywhere else ; a number of 
Arab women carrying necklaces, feathers, and 
other things to sell came up and proffered 
their wares. Marian ordered the women off 
with an imperious gesture. 

" Dr. Matchen," she said, facing me and 
looking me full in the eyes, "I asked you 
far a promise last night you virtually refused 
lo give. Remembering that man above all 
things is frail, weak, and uncertain, anxious 
to have bis own way at any co6t^ but not 
anxious to perform that which is afterwards 
expected of him — to make all safe, I took 
the matter into my own hands. It does not 

Digitized by GoOgJC 

suit my wishes that Captain Channing should 
die and Rachel live, beautiful and free. I 
think you call your favourite mosquitoes 
Diabolis and Lucifer. Diabolis poisoned 
Captain Channing on the night of the 25th; 
Lucifer poisoned Rachel last night." 

" What do you mean ? " I cried. 

I took her by her shoulders and turned 
her round. 

" What do you mean ? " I hissed again in 
her face. 

"What I say. Take your hands off. I 
took the one step possible to take. They 
are both ill now, and it is — yes, your doing 
and mine. Cure them if you can." 

I did not say a word — I was incapable of 
speech. I turned from Marian, walked 
across the hall of the big hotel, and, not 
waiting for the lift, bounded up the stairs 
three steps at a time to the third story. I 
turned down the corridor where the Denzas' 
rooms were situated. Rachel's door was 
slightly ajar ; I heard voices within. Her 
father was standing by the bedside. The 
girl herself was lying on the bed ; she had 
not troubled to undress, but from where I 
stood I noticed the frightful rigor which 
caused her to shiver from head to foot. 
Colonel Denza saw me, and asked me to 

" Ah, Matchen," he said, " you are the 
very man. What can you make of this? 
Are not Rachel's symptoms singularly like 
those from which Channing suffered yester- 

I went up to the bed and took the small, 
hot hand in my clasp. The pulse was gallop- 
ing — it did not need me to lay my finger upon 
it to know that the girl's temperature was 

"You must get into bed, Rachel," I said, 
as gently as I could speak. " You are more 
ill than I thought ; I will get a nurse from 
the hospital to see after you." 

" I am so cold," she answered, and her 
teeth chattered. 

I bent towards her. 

" Tell me," I said, " and speak truly. 
Were you bitten by anything last night ? " 

"Bitten?" she answered, pressing her 
hand to her eyes and pushing back her hair. 
" How funny ! I had forgotten. Of course 
I was. A mosquito got inside my curtains ; 
it bit my little. finger and my wrist : see how 
inflamed they are. I lit a candle and hunted 
for the little wretch, but could not find it 
Oh, how my head aches ; how giddy I am ! " 

" I will get you a nurse ; we will soon have 
you all right," I said ; but my face must have 




belied my words. I motioned to Colonel 
Denza and we both left the room. 

" What is the matter ? " he asked. 

44 Matter ! " I cried. " Only God knows. 
Your daughter is infected with the same 
horrible thing from which Captain Channing 
is suffering. Yes, they will be cured ; they 
must be cured. I take it upon me to say 
that is almost a certainty ; but they are 
both ill — alarmingly so. Get nurses from 
the hospital, my dear sir. Do not allow 
Miss Fletcher near them ; any excuse — infec- 
tion—what you like. I am off to — to do 
that which I mean to do." 

" But the marriage — the marriage on the 
i st !" cried the agonized father. 

" Marriage ! " I answered. " Colonel 
Denza, you may be thankful if you keep 
your daughter. Go on your knees to 
Almighty God and ask Him to spare her life. 
Do not keep me now." 

" But where are you going ? " he called 
after me. "Are there no immediate steps 
to be taken ? " 

" Yes, yes. Dose her with quinine, dose 
them both with quinine. I will prescribe 
the dose. Do not keep me, I beg of you." 

I rushed from the hotel. I was like a 
madman, like one possessed ; and yet, and 
yet, I was not as guilty as I had been when 
I awoke that morning. It was given to me 
at the eleventh hour to repent, to repent with 
the agony which lost souls must feel in purga- 
tory. Little did I care then whether Rachel 
married the man she loved or not. All I re- 
quired of the God who made her was her life. 

44 Oh, spare her young and beautiful life ! " 
I cried, and then I thought no more of the 
past, but only of the present. I must take 

While studying the great malarial question 
on the wide plains of the Campagna I had, 
as I have already stated, thought much of the 
possibility of a remedy or a cure — something 
which should destroy the parasites in the 
blood. I had already made extensive 
experiments in this direction, but hitherto, I 
must own, without marked success. Still, in 
moments when I could think clearly and 
devote my whole time to the question, I had 
wild dreams of a certain disinfectant which I 
called by the name of spirileen. Spirileen 
was a mixture of more than one strong dis- 
infectant, and could be introduced by inocu- 
lation into a healthy or infected subject at 
will. Up to the present, as I have said, I 
had found no certain results, but I was 
nearly mad now, and determined, come what 
would, to try to inoculate Rachel. 

by Google 

I went to my rooms, shut myself in, 
worked up my subject carefully for a few 
hours, and then went back to the Con- 
tinental. There was a hush and quiet over 
the place. Everyone in the hotel knew what 
had occurred : that the bride and bridegroom 
of to-morrow were both literally lying at 
death's door. The manager of the hotel 
looked disturbed ; if it were known that an 
attack of malignant malaria was assailing his 
guests he himself would be ruined. He 
came to me to ask what it meant. 

" Can you throw any light on the subject, 
sir ? " was his inquiry. 44 Panic is beginning 
which will empty the hotel; several people 
have already gone. Mr. Aldis is so bad he 
is not expected to live out the day." 

" What do you say ? " I asked. 

I started, turned, and faced him. 

44 Just what I say, sir. Mr. Aldis is not 
expected to hold out until night, and Miss 
Fletcher, one of your party, sir, has already 
started for Alexandria en route for Eng- 

This was a relief which the man must have 
seen reflected in my face. I evaded any 
further questions from him and rushed up- 
stairs. I went to Aldis's door and knocked. 
A feeble voice responded. I opened the 
door and entered. The man was lying weak 
unto death on his bed. He could scarcely 
speak, his face was cadaverous, the signs of 
approaching death were manifest. 

If I saved him — and surely in such an 
extreme case any experiment was justifiable — 
then Rachel at such a much earlier stage of 
the complaint would be delivered. I went 
straight up to Aldis and bent over him. 

44 1 am nearly gone," he said to me. 

44 1 have something that I want to try," I 
said. 44 It is kill or cure. May I ? " 

He gave a vague nod ; I doubt if he under- 
stood me. I had my syringe ready, and 
within two minutes I had inoculated him. I 
sat down by him then and waited for the 
result. I had watched his case for days now, 
and I knew when the fever would begin to 
return. It was due. The temperature ought 
to rise within half an hour. I sat and watched 
the clock as a man who is drowning watches 
to see whether the saving rope will reach 
him. When the clock struck I took Aldis's 
temperature. It was normal; there was no 
rise. I took it again in half an hour ; still 
no rise. 

44 What is this ? " I said. 44 Your attack 
is not coming back." 

I observed that his eyes were a shade 
brighter. I gave him a stimulant. I sat 
Original from 




with him for another hour \ still no rise of 
temperature, no sign of the terrible recurrence 
of the fever. Already he looked better; he 
was able to turn in bed and to watch me. I 
gave him a second dose of the disinfectant 
and then left him. My mind was made up ; 
1 went straight to Rachel's room. 

She was in a paroxysm of extreme misery. 
The nurse whom Denza had summoned was 
seated by the bedside. Rachel was delirious j 
she did not know anyone. 

"It is a very sharp attack, sir," said the 
nurse* in French. 

" Yes," I answered, and then I took the 
girl's white hand and pushed up her sleeve, 
and introduced the spirileen, 

I must not make my story too long. 
Suffice it to say that by a miracle, as it seemed 
to me, Rachel Denza, Captain C banning, 
and, last but not least, Mr, Frank Aldis 
crept back from the gates of death to the 
shores of life. Step by step I watched them 
as the cruel enemy withdrew and life and 
health and strength returned to their faces. 
They all spoke of me as their benefactor, and 
I, coward that I was, could not disillusionize 
them. There came a day when Channing 
and Rachel, quite well again, drove to church 
together and were made one by the officiating 
priest On that day I crept to the church and 
stayed there and listened to the words which 
took Rachel from nie for ever. But in reality 

she had never been mine, and that which I 
had done in my madness had removed her 
immeasurable miles from nie and my life, I 
was thankful that she was alive. I crept 
back to Shepheard's Hotel, for I was ill. I 
myself had been bitten by the deadly mos- 
quitoes, heeding little what they did during 
those hours that I watched by Rachael's bed. 
Should I give myself the spirileen and so, 
perhaps, save my life? No; it seemed use- 
less. The very desire for life had left me. 
Up to the present I had just strength to 
keep from my friends the fact that I was 
ill I sat in my room be L ween the taking 
paroxysms of fever and wondered what was 
before me. At least I might do one good, 
Spirileen, thought out by me, in very deed 
and truth my own discovery, the fruits of my 
months of labour, had proved efficacious. I 
would give my discovery to the world before 
I died. At intervals I had written my 
story, and there was just this one thing to 
add— the proportions and the natures of the 
disinfectants which made my protective, I 
took a sheet of paper and prepared to 
write . . , , . 

Note, — Dr. Matchen was found dead in 
his room, seated by his writing-table, his 
hand still holding his pen, The manu- 
script which lay by his side was carefully 
packed and forwarded to his friend, Colonel 

by Google 

Original from 

Across the Atlantic in a Twelve- Foot Boat. 

By Frederick A. Talbot. 

HE majority of travellers nowa- 
days, when their peregrinations 
^ necessitate an ocean journey, 
invariably set k out the largest 
vessel afloat, since by this 
means the inconvenience and 
discomfort of mal-de-mer^ if not entirely 
obviated, are at least considerably reduced, 
Yet there are one or two intrepid adventurers 
for whom the sea possesses no terrors, and 
who apparently court fate by crossing the 
Atlantic in small boats no larger than the 
emergency boats carried upon our ocean 
liners. The doyen of these solitary voyagers 
is Captain William A, Andrews, who, owing 
to his curious propensity for crossing the 
Atlantic in a small boat, 
has earned the sobriquet 
of "The lonely Skipper." 
He holds the record both 
for having crossed the 
Atlantic in the smallest boat 
and in the quickest time 
by a craft of these diminu- 
tive dimensions- 
It was at Atlantic City, 
the Blackpool of New York 
and Philadelphia^ that I 
encountered this interest- 
ing and daring navigator. 
Although bordering on his 
sixtieth year Captain 
Andrews is still hale and 
virile, and his weather- 
beaten face is a telling 
index of his sea-roving ex- 
periences. When I met 
him he was busily engaged in fashioning a 
small model of the collapsible boat in which 
he intends to cross to England thin year, 

14 Surely such an enterprise is fraught with 
considerable danger? " I ventured to remark, 
as he explained the principles of the con- 
struction of the frail argo, having an indelible 
impression of the fury of the Atlantic in a 
hurricane, and the havoc it wrought upon 
the greyhound upon which I was travelling. 

** By no means/' he replied* "Personally 
1 feel far safer in my little boats than 
1 do upon the deck of a steamer. You 
see, you have plenty of sea - room, and 
should unfavourable weather be encoun- 


From a Photo, by U. P. Jlowro, Set ilia, 




tered you can let the boat run before it 
The only real danger incurred is from 
passing vessels, especially from the liners. 
1 always endeavour to keep out of the track 
of the latter. I never carry lights at night, 
hut simply trust to Providence. On one or 
two of my journeys I did display a white 
light at my mast-head* and from what I 
subsequently learned from the reports of 
vessels which had passed me during the night, 
rny solitary will-o'-th'-wisp light occasioned 
considerable speculation among the super- 
stitious sailors as to its origin," 

Captain Andrews is not, as his name might 
imply, a captain in the strict sense of the 
word. He holds no certificate and, in fact, 
has never had a lesson in 
navigation in his life. He 
was originally engaged in 
a piano factory at Boston, 
but the trade became in- 
different and he decided to 
establish a business of his 
own, That was in 1878. 
Before proceeding to this 
step, however, he desired 
a holiday and to see the 
old country; The Expo- 
sition Universelle was 
being celebrated in Paris 
in that year, and so he 
determined to visit it ivith 
a view to extending his 

14 The chief point I had 
to consider, however/' he 
continued, " was how to 
get across. I was not in a position to 
pay for my passage in the ordinary way, 
but I had heard that a man named 
Johnson had crossed the ferry in 1875 in 
a small boat 20ft in length, and since 
success had crowned his effort I saw 
no reason why I should not emulate his 
achievement. I mentioned the matter to my 
brother Waller, who immediately approved 
of the idea, and we at once completed our 
arrangements for our novel journey. I went 
down to Gloucester to the shipbuilder who 
had constructed Johnson's boat and ordered 
a similar craft 16ft. in length. But the boat- 
builder refused to build it less than 20ft in 
Original from 


length, as he was apprehensive of its being 
sufficiently safe. Seeing argument was useless 
I let him have his own way, and in five days 
the boat, which we called the Nautilus^ was 
delivered to us. We set out from Boston, 
Massachusetts, on June Sth, r878. A huge 
crowd gathered to wish us &&n voyage^ 
and a large fleet of boats accompanied 
us for a short distance. We did not get 
far before we encountered our first disaster 
in the shape of a broken compass. We 
put back into Beverley, and I seized the 
opportunity of waiting for the re-adjustment 
of the compass to have the sleeping accom- 
modation rendered more comfortable. My 
bunk was only I tin. in width by 8in. high, 
and 1 had to lie upon my side with the hatch 
open. This was due to the centre-board of 
the boat. The 
advantage of 
having such a 
small bunk is 
that one can 
brace oneself 
securely therein, 
so that when the 
vessel pitches 
and rolls there 
is no danger of 
being hurled 
out of the berth. 
The boat was 
not ballasted, 
and is the only 
craft that has 
ever accomplish- 
ed such a jour- 
ney under such 
conditions. When the alterations had been 
made and the compass re -arranged we 
made a fresh start. The weather was fright- 
ful, the wind blowing from the north-east, 
and no vessel would put to sea. Nothing 
daunted, and chafing at the delay already 
caused, we decided to put off, though every- 
thing augured an unsuccessful passage. 
Fortunately, nowever, the weather moderated 
when we got well out to sea, 

" When we dropped out of sight of land 
that night we vaguely wondered whether we 
should ever see it again. I had never 
been to sea before 1 I had no idea of naviga- 
tion, and naturally had never taken an obser- 
vation of the sun. Our plight seemed 
hopeless and the attempt foolhardy. But 
we resolved to continue the journey, come 
what might. We took the observation of the 
sun whenever possible, and settled upon our 
course as w r ell as we could. During the trip 

VoL k*ij + — 25. 



fVtm* a J'ftoto. by M, Chickt ring. 

we spoke thirty-seven vessels, and by their 
aid could rectify any errors that we had made 
in our calculations regarding longitude and 
latitude. In spite of our deficient know- 
ledge in this respect we struck the Bishop's 
Rock off the Scilly Islands, and for which 
we had been making our way dead in 
a fog, so that we had not erred much 
in our observations. We made up to the 
Scilly Islands, and the following day entered 
the English Channel and ran into Penzance, 
being under the impression that it was 
Falmouth, We experienced a difficult time 
in these waters. A north-east gale was blow- 
ing and we got into the Lizard Race — the 
terror of all mariners. The sea was running 
high, and the tide was sweeping us along 
backwards against the wind at a speed of nine 

miles an hour. 
We finally landed 
at Mullion Cove, 
and right glad 
we were for the 
opportunity to 
get ashore to 
stretch our limbs 
a fter being 
cramped up in 
the narrow con- 
fines of our little 
boat lor forty five 
days. We subse- 
quently made 
our way to Havre, 
thence to Paris, 
After the exhibi- 
tion we returned 
to England, 
where we stayed for several months exhibit- 
ing our boat, since the episode had 
aroused considerable attention, We then 
returned to the States, and shortly after our 
arrival home my brother was taken ill and 
succumbed to the malady," 

Since the death of his brother Captain 
Andrews has always entered upon his various 
expeditions alone. Although his first trip 
had been so uniformly successful it was not 
until ten years later that he decided to under- 
take another similar excursion. Curiously 
enough, on this occasion, as with the former, 
the incentive was the Paris Exhibition. But 
this time he determined to reap some pecu- 
niary benefit from the undertaking, owing to 
the public interest that had been created by 
the accomplishment of his former trip. He 
thereupon set to work to construct another 
vessel. Th£)iWWJ&fr*«l been considered 



diminutive, being only 15ft, in length over 
all. He originally intended to christen it 
the Mermaid, but when his projected trip 
was noised abroad an enterprising showman, 
scenting dollars in such a side-show, induced 
Captain Andrews to take his boat upon a 
short tour, and to call it the Dark Secret 

"At first," commented the Captain, "I 
was not in favour of calling her by such a 
name. It sounded ominous. But he was 
adamant. At last I told him I would only 
consent to do so for j£ioo t thinking that the 
mention of such a high figure would preclude 
further insistence upon his part To my 
surprise, however, he closed with me im- 
mediately. He also made another contract 
with me that 1 should tour with him with my 
boat for forty-sevai weeks at a weekly re- 
muneration of j£?o and 

" I .started from the pier 
at Point of /Pines near 
Boston on June 17th. The 
advantage of starting from 
Boston is that the journey 
is some 250 miles shorter, 
and one enters the Gulf 
Stream much earlier, the 
warmth of which is very 
appreciably while it tarries 
you along at a splendid pace. 
More than 28,000 people 
witnessed my departure, and 
as I had contracted to 
receive a percent age of the 
pier receipts for this event 
I netted a further £280* 
On this occasion I had the 
boat constructed with a 
hollow keel in which I intended to carry my 
water, hut before I sailed I was supplied with 
hygeia water in bottles. I then admitted sea 
water into the keel to ballast the boat. I had 
scarcely got clear of the land, however, when 
I experienced rough weather. A strong 
head wind was blowing and the seas were 
running very high. Still I pushed on steadily, 
hoping that the elements would become more 
propitious. But my anticipations were 
doomed to disappointment, for the weather 
became worse. I was buffeted about for 
sixty-two days and made no progress. In 
fact I was driven back. After I had been 
out for a month I spoke a vessel which 
informed me that I was only 150 miles off 
Boston. This news depressed me, but at the 
end of another fortnight when I spoke 
another vessel I was informed that I was 
only 100 miles out. 


F rotn a Photo, by K. C7iir*criJiir, 

" To aggravate matters my water gave out, 
and when I spoke a Norwegian barque a few 
days later I was glad in one sense of the 
word to get on board and to sit down to a 
hearty meal in the captain's room after two 
months' subsistence upon canned food. 

44 When I reached America I learned that 
a Mr. j. Lawlor had successfully crossed over 
to England in a small boat, and had created 
a tremendous sensation. This put me upon 
my mettle, and I resolved to make another 
try. I ordered another boat, the Mermaid^ 
the same dimensions as the Dark Secret. 
While the boat was being built I met Lawlor 
and we agreed to race across the Atlantic for 
jQ\ r ooQ and a silver cup. This was the first 
trans-Atlantic race with small boats, and it 
aroused widespread interest We started 
together from the Ocean 
Pier near Boston on June 
17 th, 1891, just before 
nightfall, amid the huzzas 
of a large concourse of 
people. The weather was 
extremely rough. When we 
got away from land we 
decided upon our respective 
courses, Lawlor went north 
and I went south, Lawlor, 
however, must have changed 
his course soon after leaving 
me, since I passed his sprit, 
which he had cast adrift 
By this I saw that he was 
taking the same course as 
I projected. My theories 
in this direction were further 
substantiated when I spoke 
a vessel which informed me 
that they had passed Lawlor, 'all well,' three 
days before about a thousand miles ahead of 
me. As for myself I encountered successive 
disasters. My boat capsized seven times, 
and on one occasion I was clinging to her 
bottom for half an hour. She was wrongly 
constructed. Lawlor had fitted his boat 
with a lead keel, so that if she capsized she 
would right herself immediately. My boat 
would not do this. I had to right her the 
best way I could. To make matters worse, 
five days after we set out I ran into a cyclone. 
The seas were so heavy that my boat was 
practically crippled. All my stores were 
damaged and my water was lost. Under 
these circumstances I decided to seek assist- 
ance from a passing steamer, I sighted the 
Elbruz^ of Antwerp, and was taken on board. 
I proceeded with her tn Antwerp, and sold 
my bt»UffffE^tf ^f^fflgffff syndicate 


of showmen. I then went to 
London and met Lawlor, who had 
safely made a place near Land's 
End, and then went to Portsmouth, 
having accomplished the journey 
in about forty-three days." 

Although the last two attempts 
to cross the ferry had resulted jn 
failure, Captain Andrews was by 
no means daunted, and wagered 
Lawlor that he would cross in 
thirty days. Lawlor also decided 
to endeavour to lower his own 
record, and for this purpose both 
competitors set to work to construct 
special vessels. Captain Andrews 
christened his the Hying Dutchman, 
an auspicious name. Lawlor called 
his the Christopher Columbus. 

" While my vessel was being 
built I was commissioned by the 
manufacturers of a well - known 
domestic commodity to name the 
vessel the Sapolio and to undertake 
the tqjp on their behalf. I com- 
municated to Lawlor my projected 
course, which was to be from Cape Race 
to Queenstown, a distance of only 1,800 
miles. Lawlor replied that his designs 
were precisely the same. But I sud- 
denly learned that a celebration was to be 
held in Spain, in honour of Columbus, 
since the year was the four-hundredth 
anniversary of the discovery of America. It 
then suddenly occurred to me that it would 
create a sensation if I were to sail for the 
very town from which Columbus had set out 
on his expedition. The Sapolio was 14ft. 
over all, with a beam of 5ft. and a depth of 
2ft. 3in. She was collapsible. I had thirty- 

i/f,Ci*T; j Out/^c^ J?c* f /fas?; sUz ^ /j*" 
/UUvru ft, faCt*u<.j A/tf^tS 


nine square feet in the sails. Lawlor, anxious 
to reap primary honours, started on his trip 
before I was ready, but he never reached 
his destination, for he was never heard of 
again. His tragic end did not deter me 
from my purpose, and so I set out on July 
20th, 1892. On this occasion Fortune was 
kind to me. The weather was all that could 
be desired, and the wind was so favourable 
that I reached the Azores in thirty days, a 
distance of 2,500 miles. Profiting by my 
previous experience with the Mermaid, I had 
a lead keel provided to the Sapolio \ and it 

was a gigantic success 

was thrown out on the Atlantic Ocean 

THIS BOTTLE _ .... _ _ „_ 

about_vL2-/>?H^_ itfu <L$ Jh-x^^^J^Mx^^J^^^j2^^ S0/& 9 91 

-42£AW£J??T^^ I ^_Z 

from the boat "Saooho" (14 feet. 6 inches in length), making a trip 
from Atlantic City, New Jersey, to Palos, Spain The "Sapolio" is 
sailed by Capt William A. Andrews, who formerly crossed the Atlantic 
Ocean in the " Mermaid'* and the * Nautilus.'* and was 62 days on 
the Ocean in the " Dark Secret ** 

The present trip is to \he point where Columbus started, to show 
that men of more modern days can discount in many lines the great 
achievements of the past. The finder of this bottle is requested to 
fill the blank below and return it by mail in the attached envelope. 


From the Azores I 
proceeded to Por- 
tugal, made my 
way up the coast, 
and finally reach- 
ed the Spanish 
towns of Huelva 
and Palos." 

Upon his ar- 
rival in Spain the 
population be- 
came demented 
with delight. A 
large crowd met 
him at the land- 
ing-stage and the 
air was filled with 
vigorous cheer- 
Original W "g; The ladies 


•UNIVERSITY OF Mlfflfe.* ircourt,y 




f'wn a f Aofo. by U. P. ifrmrfno, jsVrif te. 

Spanish grace waved their handkerchiefs and 
greeted liim with flowers as he was paraded 
round the streets upon the shoulders of some 
of the swarthier citizens* Distinguished cele- 
brities entertained him upon every side. The 
streets were thronged with enthusiastic sight- 
seers. One old lady was heard to remark 
by the Captain that the event ought to be 
recorded in " natural history** 1 The papers 
published glowing and lengthy accounts 
of his wonderful voyage. The Government 
paid his expenses until his departure, making 
him a guest of the Crown* The Queen 
herself sent him an invitation, of which 
the Captain cherishes pleasant memories- 
Photographers besieged him upon every side. 
He distributed no fewer than 560 photos of 
himself and boat to interested and curious 
sightseers. One enthusiast requested a piece 
of the American flag which had flown at the 
masthead of the Sapoiio^ but as his request 
was not complied wilh he satisfied himself 
by taking the whole flag. Another gentle- 
man was anxious to secure a photo- 
graph of the Captain. The latter, desirous 
to oblige, withdrew five photographs from his 
pocket in order to let the gentleman 
make his own selection, But the Spaniard 
excitedly grabbed the whole five photographs 
and decamped exultingly. 

i( I thought he not only took the cake/' 
remarked the Captain, when relating the 
incident, "but the wind out of me at the 
same time." 


" Surely the 
monotony of 
travelling alone 
for so long must 
exert a depressing 
influence ? " I 

1 i I do not 
notice it. You 
see, I have a 
regular routine of 
work to perform 
during the day. 
In addition to 
attending to the 
boat I keep a log, 
and also write an 
account of my 
experiences as I 
progress, for the 
American papers. 
These packages 
of manuscript, 
together with let- 
ters, I hand to 
the captains of the various ships I meet, 
with the request that they will kindly post 



them when they get ashore. I sleep when 
1 feel so inclined Formerly at nitwit time 
I used to * heave to J while I slept, but 
now I have fitted a device by which I am 
able to set the vessel's course before I 
turn in and she will steer herself during the 
few hours I am asleep, I average in fair 
weather about 100 miles every twenty-four 
hours, which is by no means a despicable daily 
run considering the size of the boat," 

Since Captain Andrews completed his 
memorable trip to Spain 
in thirty-five days he has 
made two other attempts 
to cross the Atlantic, but 
on neither occasion has 
he achieved his purpose. 
The first of these two trips 
was made in 1S98 in the 
Phantom Ship — an unlucky 
name according to marine 
traditions — 13ft. in length, 
and carrying twelve square 
yards of sail. Curiously 
enough, the boom of this 
craft was longer than the 
boat itself. 

" From the very com- 
mencement this voyage was 
unfortunate. Owing to un- 
foreseen circumstances I 
could not take my depar- 
ture until August 24th, 
and as a consequence I 
encountered the full force 
of the September gales, I 
started from Atlantic City. 
I had not got far out when 
my first trouble overtook me. 
My boat leaked like a sieve, and I had to 
work might and main baling the water 
out, otherwise she would have foundered. 
The sea was rough and the boat con- 
stantly heeled over and lay upon her side, 
with the result that the water swamped 
her. The tins containing my provisions were 
knocked about and punctured, so that 
their contents were spoiled and rendered 
unfit to eat By September 20th I found I 
had no food. I had been twenty -seven 
days at sea and was now progressing very 
favourably, making about too miles a day. 
But I could not subsist upon nothing, and I 
soon realized that unless I fell in with a ship 
it would go hard with me. On September 
27th I espied a vessel. I hailed her, but she 
took no notice. I put on all sail and sped after 
her. They did riot observe me for the reason 
that they were busily engaged in taking in 

their sails, which had been damaged by the 
storms* I presently attracted their attention, 
and they hove to. When I came alongside 
they hauled me aboard and my boat after 
me, which they stowed away. You can form 
a comprehensive idea of the diminutive size 
of this boat when I tell you that when 
folded up she was only 4111. thick. Curiously 
enough, this vessel fulfilled the superstitious 
traditions of the sea, which is that any 
vessel which speaks a phantom ship 

I 1 PHANTOM -Siiii H p 

UUIGTfl i^t. \PhaUtffTVvK. 

is eventually lost. This ship subsequently 
went down off Dunkerquc. No doubt 
had the sailors observed the name of my 
boat they would have refused to take me 
aboard, so strong are their superstitious 

" When I again reached Atlantic City I 
could not rest, but Immediately set about 
making preparations for another voyage. I 
had the Phantom Ship dismembered and 
rebuilt, only on this occasion she measured 
hut 12ft in length, and is the smallest vessel 
that ever essayed to cross the Atlantic. I re- 
christened her the Doree" 

Captain Andrews was to be accompanied 
on this expedition by Professor Miller, who 
created a tremendous sensation by stating 
that he was going to cross the herring-pond 
by means of Slianki's pony. He interviewed 
thqj^pR5|^ l t^^t^g_ Al p|nd although the 



intrepid lonely voyager was naturally very 
sceptical of Miller's ability to achieve the 
feat, he consented to construct the necessary 
walking shoes in which the latter anticipated 
accomplishing the journey. In our illustra- 
tion Professor Miller is seen with his special 
walking shoes under either arm, They each 
measured about 5ft. in length. As will be 
seen, they resembled miniature canoes in 
design, with a small orifice in the centre to 
admit the foot, and were furnished with 
corrugated soles. Being manufactured of 
wood they were, of course, buoyant, so that 
Miller had little fear of being dragged under 
water. The absolute impracticability of his 
being able to withstand the enormous potency 
of the waves in mid- Atlantic never appealed 
to the Professor, Confident of unqualified 
success he started upon his foolhardy trip, 
but it was not long before the folly of his 
scheme dawned upon him very forcibly. He 
could not maintain his equilibrium, and, as 
was to be naturally expected, he was simply 
drifted about at the merry of the waves. 
After vainly endeavouring to make headway 
Miller was at/ last reluctantly compelled to 
abandon the idea of walking from Atlantic 
City to England, 

"I think this was the most remarkable 
trip I have under- 
taken, since, although 
I did not accomplish 
my object, I passed 
through a succession 
of experiences such 
as I never wish to 
meet with again. I 
was supplied with a 
large stock of Saratoga 
water, a natural effer- 
vescent drink. I sailed 
on June 17th from 
Atlantic City and made 
very fair progress. 
The weather was hot, 
and for some inexplic- 
able reason I felt pecu- 
liarly drowsy. 1 had 
never experienced the sensation before, 
When I commenced writing my log, for 
the first few minutes the writing was 
quite bold and distinct, but it soon resolved 
itself into an unintelligible scrawl and 
I would fall asleep. At first I attri- 
buted the peculiarity to the heat. I took 
my observations in ibe usual manner, and 
conjectured that I was keeping a good course- 
One day when I fell in with a vessel, wishing 
to rectify any errors that I might possibly 




From a Phota^rapK, 

have made, I asked the captain for the longi- 
tude. He gave it to me, and you can judge 
of my surprise when I found that his obser- 
vation was three days ahead of mine. That 
is to say, I had travelled three days farther 
than I imagined. I thought be must be in 
error. I asked him the date of the month. 
* July 1 st/ he retorted. ' You must be wrong, 1 
I replied; 4 it is only June 27th/ He 
quickly dissipated my doubt upon this point, 
and I was at my wits' end to account for 
such a flagrant error in my calculations* I 
continued my journey in a dazed condition. 
One day when it was abnormally hot I 
laid down in my bunk. Immediately I 
experienced a strange feeling of asphyxia^ 
tiom I jumped up in alarm. Thinking it 
must be fancy on my part I once more lay 
down, and the same curious sensation 
overtook me, I thereupon sought to dis- 
cover the reason for this peculiarity. It 
was not a difficult search, for I found that 
the cork stoppers to my bottles of Saratoga 
water had shrunk under the influence of the 
intense heat, and that the carbonic acid gas 
had escaped and had collected in the bottom 
of the boat. This was the solution of my 
curious drowsy feeling* I could now account 
for my error in longitude* I must have been 
unconscious for those 
three days, since I 
never had the slightest 
recollection of them. 
Since I had now dis- 
carded my water I kept 
a sharp look out for a 
vessel to replenish my 
supply, The first ship 
I spoke was bound 
for Li verpo ol , w h ere 
I was eventually 

The trip Captain 
Andrews is going to 
make this year is 
in reply to a chal- 
lenge issued by 
Captain Blackburn, of 
Gloucester, Mass., who a short time ago 
successfully crossed to England from his 
town. It is to be a race similar to that 
organized by Andrews and Lawlor. The 
stipulations are that the boat must not 
exceed 20ft. in length. Captain Andrews 
proposes to make his attempt in a boat 
12ft, long, since his experience with the 
Done convinced him that a craft of this 
dimension was splendidly adapted to such 


N a distant country lived a 

young shepherd named Kletch, 

Although poor he was not 

unhappy, for he was good and 


One day, as he was with his 
flock upon some waste ground, an old woman 
came along- 

When Kletch saw her he took off his cap 
politely and said : lL Good-day, mother ! " 

11 You are a well-mannered youth,' 1 returned 
the old woman j in a cracked voice. " Now, 
give me one of those sheep; you will never 
repent it if you will oblige me by doing so/' 

" Very well Choose for yourself," said 

The old woman chose a sheep* Then, 
drawing from under her cloak an exceedingly 
large umbrella, which had evidently been 
mended many times, she said : " Here is 
something in return for your kindness. At 
the right time, and in the proper place, don't 
forget to use it, and be sure never to promise 
am thing unconditionally" 

With that the old woman went off, Kletch 
was greatly mystified by her peculiar 
behaviour £nd strange speech, but he took 
care of the umbrella. 

Another time Kletch was pasturing his 
sheep on a lonely plain when another old 
woman came along. 



Fkom the French. 

The young man removed his cap as before. 

* l Will you be kind enough to give me two 
sheep ? " said the old woman. 

" Choose them for yourself, mother," 
replied Kletch* The woman quickly chose 
two sheep. As she was going away she 
turned to the shepherd and placed in his 
hands an old handkerchief big enough to 
serve as a tablecloth. " Here," remarked 
she, "is something in return for your 
generosity* Use it at the proper time and 
place, but nei*cr promise anything uncon- 

Kletch took care of the handkerchief. 

Another day, as he was taking his sheep 
up a rugged diff t a third old woman made 
her appearance. After being saluted most 
politely by Kletch she coolly asked him for 
three sheep. 

"Dear me," thought the poor fellow, "if 
this kind of thing goes on much longer I 
shall soon be rid of the whole flock," 

But he could not refuse to do a kindness, 
so again he said : "Choose, good mother." 

Without the least hesitation the old 
woman chose three sheep. Then, before she 
disappeared with them, she gave Kletch a 
common-looking bottle, saying as she did so : 
"Take this j%SfM9l«f x< h\ the proper place 
and time .daa'LforgetXQ usejk^nd be sure that 
you *M^)k^M^ 

22 4 


Kletch put the bottle in his hut by the 
side of his other queer presents, and thought 
no more of the matter. 

About this time the King's daughter 
attained the age at which Princesses are 
usually married, She was extremely beautiful, 
but had the not uncommon desire that every- 
body and everything should be subject to her 

When the King proposed a powerful 
Prince as a possible husband for her she said, 
"Sire, I have made up my mind to marry no 
man who cannot command the rain." 

The King was very angry, " Where do 
you imagine I am to find such a man?" he 
exclaimed. " You may just as well say that 
you will not marry at all ! w 

"I am determined not to yield on 
this point,*' replied the Princess, in a 
tone which tokl her father that further 
argument would be useless. 

"Very well," said the King; "I will 
see what can be done." 

Even Kletch, in his remote country 
home, heard of the Princess's extra- 
ordinary idea. He left his sheep to the 
care of his dog and set off for town, 

"Here," he said to himself, "is an 
opportunity for using my umbrella." 

The rain was [wining down. But the 
umbrella was as big as a tent, and the 
lad thought that he should be well 

As he grasped the huge thing he 
said : — 

11 What a miserable day for a journey ! ,J 

The rain ceased immediately, 

" How very curious ! " said Kletch. 

He was startled by a hoarse voice, 
which said :— 

"lam at your service; hut in return 
you must promise to marrv my daughter." 

"All right!" answt.ed Kletch; "I 
promise, but only on one condition." 

" What is that ? " asked the voice, 

"That I will tell you at the proper time/* 

Kletch continued his journey. Having 
reached the Royal castle he heard a herald 
announcing, with a flourish of trumpets, that 
any man who could make the rain fall or 
cease at pleasure should be the Princess's 
husband. No man offered himself. Then 
Kletch stepped forward and was brought 
into the courtyard. Rain was pouring in 
torrents. The King and his daughter were 
looking down from a grand balcony, When 
the Princess saw the poorly -dressed young 
man she called out : — 

" What does this beggar want ? Give him 

his alms and send him off about his busi- 

" I am not a beggar," said Kletch, 

tA Well, what do you want?" inquired the 

"To be your Majesty's son-in-law." 

■* Are you mad ? * 

" No, I am thankful to say," 

"lie off! * roared the King. 

The rain had ceased, and at this moment 
the sky was clear, But Kletch opened 
h^ umbrella, and again the rain fell in 

" Wonderful I* remarked the King. 

" Dear me ! " exclaimed the Princess. 

Kletch closed his umbrella, and the rain 




stopped at once, The Princess was rather 
frightened. Her father began to scold her. 

"You see now/' he said, "into what a 
scrape your ridiculous notion has brought us. 
Here am I pledged to take this man into 
our family," 

"Don't worry," said the Princess. "No 
harm is done yet." Then, turning to the 
young shepherd , she asked \ — 

" What is your name ? " 

i( Kletch f 
madam, at your 
service. 11 

"Well, Kletch, 
I admit that you 
have an excep- 
tional power, but 
I have decided 
only to marry a 
man who can 
govern the 

Then she and 
her father re- 
tiro 1 from the 
balcony and 
Kletch had to 
go away. 

He felt sad. 
All night long 
instead of sleep- 
ing he thought 
of the beautiful 
Princess. At an 
early hour the next morn- 
ing he returned to the 
town. This time he 
brought with him the 
handkerchief which he had 
received for the two sheep. 

As he walked quickly along 
a strong wind began to blow. 
"What miserable weather for a journey ! " 
thought Kletch, and it so happened 
that at that moment he took from his 
pocket the enormous handkerchief. 

The wind dropped immediately. 

" How strange ! " said the youth. 

Then a voice spoke. " I am at your 
service," it said \ " but promise in return 
to marry my daughter." 

11 1 may do so," replied Ketch, " upon 

" What is that?" inquired the voice, amid 
shrill, whistling sounds. 

" I will name the condition at the proper 

Kletch went on until he reached the 
castle. When the Princess saw him coming 

Vol. xirii.— 20* 


she called to him : " I have not changed my 
mind. If you cannot control the wind, it is 
of no use for you to come here." 

The young man touched his handkerchief. 
Up sprang a hurricane, which shook all the 
chimneys and caused all the windows to 

" Look at that I " said the King. 
" Dear me ! ,! remarked his daughter. 
Kletch drew the handkerchief from his 

pocket. The 
storm ceased as 
suddenly as it 
had begun. 

"You certainly 
possess a great 
power," said the 
Princess, She 
began to feel 
some interest in 
this young man. 
Looking at him 
with more atten- 
tion than she 
had hitherto be- 
stowed upon him 
she saw that, in 
spite of his rags, 
he was a fine 
fellow, straight 
and handsome as 
the greatest noble 
at the Court. 
11 However," she 
continued, "I 
shall only wed a 
man who can 
command the 

Klelch went 
away in low 
spirits. He had 
fallen in love with 
the Princess, and 
thoughts of her 
again banished 
sleep from his 

At daybreak 
the next morning 
he was on his way 
to town. The sun shone brightly. "How 
hot it is!" thought Kletch, "I shall be 
melted before I reach the castle ! " 

Feeling very thirsty, he took out the little 
bottle which had been given him for the 
three sheep, intending to drink its contents. 
At once a thick vapour proceeded from the 
bottl^^^^^^^^d into a big 




white cloud, and totally obscured the suivs 

( * What an extraordinary thing !" said the 
shepherd. Then a voice said : " I am at 
your service ; but you must promise to marry 
my daughter/' 

Kletch, as before, agreed to this propo- 
sition, but only upon a condition which he 
refused to state. 

When he drew near to the castle he saw 
th^ Princess coming to meet him. " You 
may as well go back," she said, 
" for, of course, you can't com- 
mand the sun ! " 

The sun at that moment was 
covered by thick clouds, Kletch 
took his bottle. Immediately 

her lowly lover, " I can speedily put that 
right Will you marry me if I can prove 
that for your sake I refuse three wives? " 

11 How am I to believe you ? " returned 
the Princess. " Certainly you are not bad- 
looking, but what woman could wish to bear 
your name ? " 

" Patience ! " said Kletch. 

He opened his big umbrella, and down 
came the rain, 

* 4 Bring out your daughter ! ,p he cried. 

*J FRQMISED to makkv HKk/ saiij ki.ktcii, 


the clouds melted away and the sun shone 
in full splendour. 

The Princess was troubled and perplexed, 
How could she marry a poor, miserable 
shepherd? She tried to show Kletch how 
impossible such a union would be. 

Kletch scarcely knew what to say, 
love you/' he remarked ; "is not 
enough ? " 

The Princess did not think so* She 
proud of her birth and rank. 

" Ah ! " she exclaimed. " Am I to marry 
a fellow whom nobody else will have ? " 

"Is that all that troubles you?" said 



A woman appeared. Her face re- 
sembled that of a frog ; her com- 
plexion was green, her hair wet, and 
she shivered beneath her rain-soaked 

"I promised to marry this woman," 
said Kletch to the Princess^ " but only upon 
one condition," 

M What was that ? M 

" That I liked her ; I do not like her, 
therefore I reject her." 

He closed his umbrella. The rain (eased 
to fall, and the woman, weeping bitterly, dis- 
appeared. The shepherd touched his hand- 
kerchief. Up sprang the wind. 

" Bring forth your daughter ! " cried K letch. 

Immediately there appeared a tremendous, 

balloon-like person, with ugly, inflated cheeks, 

"I promised to marry her? said Kletch. 

""tfffiftfiS^F MICHIGAN 



11 What was it? * 

" That I liked her. I do twi like her, so 
I refuse to wed her/' 

He waved the handkerchief. The wind 
grew silent and the daughter flew away like 
an air-ball. 

Kletch took out his bottle, and straight- 
way the sun smiled. 

u Bring forth your daughter ! '* cried the 

A tall woman, with red hair, a face like a 
pumpkin, and eyes like 
glowing coalsj pre- 
sented herself 

u The sun wishes me 
to be his son-in-law," 

have a son-in-law who could control the 
weather, was about to embrace him, when he 
was stopped by his daughter. 

u You have great power," said she to her 
lover, u and hitherto you have done all that 
I have asked. There is just one more thing 
which I hope you will not refuse me*" 

"What is it?" asked Kletch, in great 

"It is this; that when we are married 
/ shall regulate the weather ! " 


said Kletch to the Princess, "but I have 
made one condition." 

"What is that?" 

" That his daughter should please me ; she 
does not please me, therefore 1 reject her," 

He waved the bottle, whereupon a dense 
mass of clouds covered both the sun and his 

Then Kletch fell at the Princess's feet 
The kind-hearted old King, who began to 
think that it would be rather a fine thing to 



" Oh, yes t yes ! yes ! " ex- 
claimed the enraptured swain, 
and straightway the Princess 
extended to him her lovely 
hand, which he seized and 
covered with kisses. 

At this propitious moment 
three fairies arrived upon the 
scene, having travelled in 
dragon-drawn cars. These were 
none other than the three old 
women whose gifts had brought 
such luck to the fortunate shep- 
herd. Of course, they were 
present at the wedding, which was the 
grandest ever known. 

When the good old King died Kletch 
was supposed to reign in his stead. As a 
matter of fact, it was the Queen, his wife, 
who really governed. 

This state of things was so entirely satis- 
factory to both parties, and also to all their 
loyal subjects, that ever since their time it 
has been the custom, nearly all over the 
world, for ladies to havp the upper hand. 
Original from 

Some Wonders from the West. 


O oft has it been stated that 
truth is stranger than fiction 
that the aphorism has become 
trite ; yet it is an undeniable 
fact that every day there are 
enacted dramas that would 

make the fame of an author, and yet which 

are permitted to pass unnoticed, 

Such a real life romance has been dis- 
closed by the announcement that the Rev. 

Joseph Griffis, who for the past five years 

has been the pastor of the South Presbyterian 

Church of Buffalo, New 

York, would resign- his 

pulpit and devote the rest 

of his life to missionary 

work among the Indians 

of the Western United 

States. Thus is added 

the dramatic climax to a 

life that has been replete 

with adventure. 

Born in Texas, the hero 

of this chequered career 

was stolen at the age of 

two years by Indians, who 

massacred his mother 

The child was raised as 

an Indian boy and knew 

no other life than that of 

the red men, nor did he 

learn that he was not one 

of them by birth until he 

was ten years old. When 

sixteen years of age he 

enlisted in the United 

States army, deserted for a fancied grievance, 

was captured and sentenced to death, hut 

managed to escape. He was forced to flee, 

and from that time he has been by turns 

tramp, member of the Salvation Army, 

evangelist, theological student, minister, and 


u Despite my youth spent as a savage," he 

remarked in a recent interview, " I have not 

a drop of Indian blood in my veins. This 

is a fact I find hard to realize when 1 recall 

the eagerness with which I went to the chase, 

followed the war- path, and exultingly returned 

to the wigwam with the scalp of my enemy 

dangling from my belt. 

" In 1864 my Father, a well-to-do American 

ranchman, moved to the south-western part 

of Oklahoma, bordering on Texas, At this 

time the West was the real Indian frontier; 

the war-cry of the Indian was a familiar 

sound, and the massacre of the white men a 
horrible but frequent sight. My father was 
one of a little handful of hardy Americans 
who formed a small settlement on the site of 
what is now Gainesville. 

" One day the Kiowa Indians, who were the 
least friendly of any of the trihes, and who were 
strong in numbers and skilled in warfare, 
made a raid on the settlement. The whites 
were taken completely by surprise, and with 
the exception of a few who were taken as 
captives were brutally massacred. My mother 
fell in the fight, for these 
red men had no mercy on 
women or children, but an 
old Kiowa warrior, who is 
still alive and well remem- 
bers the scene, told me 
many times that she de- 
fended her life and mine 
with fierce courage; 
i fought like red squaw/ 
he would exclaim, en- 

" My father had gone 
to a neighbouring town on 
the day of the massacre. 
When he returned to his 
home he found the settle- 
ment deserted, houses 
burned, and bodies of his 
neighbours and friends 
charred and mutilated. 

" He searched long and 
earnestly for me, and 
offered a large ransom for 
my return, but the Indians, fearing punish- 
ment, hid me safely and refused to give me up. 
Where I lived until the death of my parent 
I do not know, but when he died I was 
taken to the wigwam of Big Bow, the chief 
of the Kiowas, 

" I can recall my life from that time very 
vividly. Big Bow was very kind to me, and 
his squaw cared for me with all the tender- 
ness an Indian mother is capable of 
bestowing, and they are very fond of their 
children. I entered into all the sports of the 
Indian youth, trained myself in the handling 
of the how and arrow, and could bring home 
game of which any huntsman might be proud. 
"When I was about ten years old some- 
thing occurred which changed my life and 
made me a wanderer I was travelling with 
a small band of Indians under Big Bow T and 
just as we were about to pitch our tents we 





were captured by a company of American 
infantry, A soldier, who seemed friendly 
towards us, called me to him and commenced 
questioning me. He asked if I were a Kiowa* 
I answered that I was y and that Big Bow and 
his squaw were my mother and father. The 
soldier seemed to doubt this statement, re- 
marking that I did not look much like an 
Indian despite my togs, for I dressed in the 
regular Indian costume, paint, skins, feathers, 
and everything that marks the red man's 
clothes from those of the whites. I was 
just leaving my questioner when he called 
me back and asked to see 
iny left arm* He had 
noticed the vaccination 
mark that proved me to 
be of white origin. The 
commanding officer then 
took me to Big Bow and 
asked him to tell my 
history, This he refused 
to do at first, denying in- 
dignantly that I was a 
white man's son, but, after 
much persuasion, he was 
finally induced to tell my 

"The officer of the in- 
fantry took me in charge, 
and T with the aid of Big 
Bow, who thought it 
might be to my advan- 
tage to be thrown among 
my own people, got in 
communication with my 
uncle, who lived in Texas. 
When my identity was 
proved my uncle came for 
me and took me with him 
to Texas^ where I was 
forced to put aside my 
Indian habits and live the 
life of a civilized white boy. 

tl This restraint soon 
became irksome, and 
I longed to go back to the wild, adventur- 
some, roving life of the Kiowas. I loved the 
rough kindness of the Indians, their courage, 
and restless, roving ways, I detested the 
mean, hampering, little conventionalities of 
the whites, and I made up my mind to return 
to the life that was a part of me, 

14 After staying long enough with my 
uncle to gain his trust and confidence, and 
when the strict watch that had been kept 
over my comings and goings had been re- 
leased 3 1 slipped out of the town and ran 
away to join the Indians, 

"I journeyed for days over the prairies 
and mountains, enduring all manner of hard- 
ships, but happy in the fact that I was free and 
on my way to the people I loved. I had 
lost track of Big Bow, and 1 doubt if he 
would have kept me with him had I returned, 
for he felt that I should be given back to my 
people. After travelling for several weeks 
without falling in with the Indians I finally 
struck through the forests to a camp that I 
had often heard of. There 1 met some 
straggling Utes and became one of them, 
"This tribe met with reverses, and I joined 
the Cheyennes, and, later, 
a little band of Kiowas. 
For six years I led the 
roving life of these tribes, 
hunted, fought, and lived 
with them, and at times 
forgot that I was a ( pale 
face, 1 

"In 1878, although I 
was not more than six- 
teen, I enlisted in the 
United States Army. I 
was put in Company K 
1 6th Infantry, and did 
scout duty for some time. 
I won an important horse- 

THfc KfeV. JOSEl'l 

race, which attracted the 
attention of Captain 
Crews, of the 4th Cavalry, 
and thinking to do me a 
kindness he offered to 
engage me as scout and 
interpreter on soldier's 
pay* I accepted the 
commission and served 
two and a half years, when 
we were sent on the trail 
of a band of Cheyennes, 
who had left the reserva- 
tion on a foraging ex- 
pedition, Because of an 
insult I had received at 
the hands of the com- 
manding officer I had several months been 
planning to desert. Two soldiers went with 
me on the trail, and when we met the 
Cheyennes we joined them, but were soon 
met by the soldiers, who were too strong 
for us and overthrew the band. 

"The Indians, being mounted, fled, and 
we alone were captured and taken back to 
camp. I w x as given a drum -head court- 
martial and sentenced to be shot at retreat 
Just before the execution was to take place 
Captain Crews said he had decided to post- 

^ ne Wff^f #fclffll5JW' hich time J 

(iRin-IH IN "IHK ClJSTL'MF- t>F 
From 6 I'h^urtiph. 



was to be put in the guard -house at Fort 
Reno for safe keeping. 

" In the guard house- with me was a young 
soldier known only by the name of * Gee 
Wiz,' a daring chap and jolly comrade. We 
often talked together about our captivity and 
planned means of escape. One day when 
the vigilant watch was relaxed somewhat Gee 
Wiz cut a hole in the roof of the guard- 
house and, watching our chance, we crawled 
through the aperture out into the bright day- 
light, warm sunshine, and fresh air* In a fev 
minutes the whole camp was roused, and a 
hot chase commenced. We had the start, 
and soon were lost to the pursuers. We 
went seventy- five miles south, nearly starving 
en route \ but enjoying our freedom and 
chance to live. When we were at a safe 
distance from camp Gee Wiz and I separated, 
and I have never seen him since. For three 
years I roamed about the country, living the 
life of a tramp, and finally I drifted to 
London, Ontario. 

" It was in this city that I first knew the 
Salvation Army. I was roaming around the 
streets in an aimless fashion when I was 
attracted by the service they were holding in 

the open air, and stayed a while to listen. 
The sermon made a deep impression upon 
me, and I after that attended many meetings, 
until I became converted and joined the 
Army. While still in London I was sent to 
gaol for beating a drum in the street, contrary 
to the law, and during my imprisonment I 
studied the English language. After my 
release I joined the Salvation Army once 
more and remained with them for three 
years, when I became an evangelist, and ten 
years ago I was ordained minister and came 
to Buffalo, 

" Not until four years ago did I secure 
immunity from the death sentence which was 
pronounced upon me for deserting. And 
now I am preparing for a missionary's life, 
and in a few days I shall be back to 
Oklahoma and the scenes of my boyhood to 
work among my red brothers. Sly know- 
ledge of their language and character will 
help me greatly in my work. Having been 
one of them for so many years I know best 
how to appeal to them, and I shall consider 
my early years well spent if they assist me to 
civil ize,t&e red men and help them to a belter 

By C. B Smith. 

In looking over my old numbers of The 
Strand, as I often do, I ran across the article 
on whittling in the June number of 1900 by 
Mr. J. \V. Russell, which attracted my atten- 
tion, which he calls wonderful, which I do not 
gainsay. But as you have possibly heard 
that the " Yankee " is a 
whittler of reputation the 
world over, and as I have 
a friend whom I think 
most wonderful, I thought 
I would call your atten- 
tion to some of his work, 
which is done only for 
pastime as he has an idle 

He is Dr. J. R Brown, 
of Hamilton Place, 
Boston, Mass., one of our 
noted dentists, a gentle- 
man now about sixty- five 
years old, who enjoys pro- 
bably the best practice of 
anyone in our city, I 
have prevailed on him to 
allow me to photograph 
an assortment of pincers 
from one to sixteen joints Framn] 

each ; the smallest was made from one-quarter 
of a match, and less than J^ln. long, with a 
perfect joint, which I saw him make in 
1 5m in. The largest one has sixteen joints, 
and is made from a piece of wood J^in* 
thick* This, one was made in four hours. 
The wonderful part is the 
fact that there is no piec- 
ing or glueing, but all 
made from one piece of 
wood. He has many 
times offered to anyone 
i,ooodols* who has not 
seen his to cut one like it 
in four days. In all his 
wood - work he uses a 

Dr. Brown is a genius 
in many ways mechanical, 
and can make almost any- 
thing that comes into his 
head, either with metal or 
wood. He once had in 
his house a miniature 
landscape* made by him- 
self, 3ft. by 5ft., with a 
JjQtinjtain in the centre 

~ Li«m*T , cffl8itrfi6A# e11, playing 




From a Photograph, 

water a foot high, the overflow of which sup- 
plied a little river winding through the flowers 
(representing trees). At one side was a water- 
wheel running, the other side a windmill 
Drinking from the fountain was a bird, which 
would raise its head as if swallowing, very 
natural to life. 

In front of ihe fountain was a little white 
mouse on apparently a solid rock, eating a 
kernel of corn ; through a hole in the rock on 
which he sat ran the wires that turned his 
head to look at you and raised his paws to 
his mouth* All worked at the same time and 

ran by the water from the 
main pipes in his house, 
and could be shut off at 
will Above all this were 
seventy- five pots of flowers 
filling the bow-window. 

It was a grand sight and 
was the talk of the town 
for years. He was obliged 
to pack it away owing to 
the large number of visitois 
who called to see it. 


Bv Frkd A. Talrot. 

The record-breaker is in- 
separable from America, 
lie it cither in work or play f 
an astonishing feat must be 
accomplished. The results 
of these efforts to attain 
priority and notoriety have 
been the creation of some 
unique records, and in some 
instances the feats have 
gained widespread notice 
as remarkable achievements 
of physical endurance. 
Notwithstanding this curi- 
ous tendency in the States 
it is doubtful whether one 
would have thought it pos- 
sible to establish a record 
in connection with the 
young lady's favourite pas- 
time of skipping. Vet this 
is the case, and the record 
is not held by any member 
of the fair sex, but by Mr. 
Fred Connor, of New Wil- 
mington, Pennsylvania, 
Curiously enough, the idea of establishing- 
a skipping record appears to have originated 
in this country ; at any rate, an Englishman 
was the first man to gain publicity in 
this direction. The holder of this unique 
championship was no other than William 
Plimmer, the well-known English pugilist. 
Some six or seven years ago he decided to 
ascertain how long he could skip without 
once stopping or pausing, He enlisted the 
assistance of some friends to witness the 
event. Owing jt^it^^urious nature of 

the «ffi^Y^iefef nterest was 




manifested, an effect due to a great extent, 
no doubt, to the fame he had accomplished 
in connection with his pugilistic en- 
counters. An ordinary rope was provided, 
and Plimmer commenced his task. He 


From a Fhotfiffratuk. 

had to turn the rope himself, that is to 
say, he did not skip while assistants placed at 
either end turned the rope for him. Plimmer 
succeeded in making 3,926 consecutive 
jumps without a single miss or pause, It 
was considered a magnificent performance, 
and Plimmer was feted accordingly. 

But the glory of the achievement of the 
English pugilist was short-lived. A chal- 
lenger appeared on the scene in the person 
of Mr. Connor, who stated that he would 
excel Plimmer's record. The conditions 
were to be exactly the same, and the venue 
of the contest was to be Oil City, Pennsyl- 
vania. So eminently successful was Connor 
in this attempt that Plimmer's record was 
lowered by 109 jumps, Connor having accom- 
plished 4,035 skips. The new champion's 
achievement was somewhat more noteworthy 
than that of Plimmer, since he had used the 
backward lope or step, which made the task 
much more difficult. 

Although beaten, Plimmer made no 
attempt to retrieve the "blue ribbon," but 
another rival, Mr. Mullen, eclipsed Connor's 
record by skipping against time. This latest 

opponent made 5,000 skips in one hour. The 
forward lope was utilized throughout and 
the feat was regarded as being remarkable, 
since the strain of skipping incessantly for 
such a length of time and at such a speed is 
tremendous. Skipping is one of the most 
healthy forms of exercise, and at the same 
time one of the most fatiguing. 

This achievement by Mullen stimulated 
Connor to further effort. He soon announced 
that he would further increase the record, 
and on March ist, 1896, the attempt was 
made. Mullen's record on this occasion was 
hopelessly broken, for Connor carried off 
fresh laurels by making 7,000 skips in 
ihr. 45mm. Although on the average for 
the hour this aggregate does not equal that 
of Mullen, since Connor only made 4*000 
skips in the sixty minutes as against the 
former's 5,000 in the same time, yet the feat 
was far more important, and is still the 
record for skipping for the longest time with- 
out a pause or miss. As with the case of the 
competitor he vanquished, Connor availed 
himself of the forward lope entirely. Great 
difficulty was at times experienced by the 
umpires in recording the skips, owing to the 
rapidity with which the competitor turned 
the rope. 

By this wonderful exhibition, which was 
not only a remarkable skipping performance 
but also a splendid physical feat, Connor 





firmly established his claim to the cham- 
pionship, and since then no other challengers 
have succeeded in wresting it from him. 
Connor has since devoted his energies mainly 
to pace instead of to staying power, and in 
this direction he has also achieved some 
startling successes. 

Shortly after his disposal of Mullen he had 
a sharp spurt of 500 jumps in smin. 2zsec, 
an average of about 3^2 skips per second. 
This was a rapid piec:e of work, but con- 
tinued practice has enabled him to increase 
his speed enormously. Occasionally he 
attains such a pace that the camera fails to 
record the rope distinctly, but simply gives a 
confused blurr showing the rope whizzing 
through the air. Some difficulty was ex- 
perienced in obtaining the photographs illus- 
trating this article^ and it was not until after 
several attempts had been made that success- 
ful photographs were obtained. 

On December 24th, 1897, Connor suc- 
ceeded in lowering the last remaining record 
in connection with skipping. This latter was 


established some little time previously by 
Mr, Frank Nudes, of Auburn, New York 
State s who accomplished 2,000 skips in 
14m in. 3osec This averages a speed for 
the hour of about 8,000 jumps, so that it 
will be recognised that Connor set himself a 
formidable task in attempting to eclipse this 
feat. The contest was decided at the Young 


Men's Christian Association, Oil City, and 
Connor gained another gigantic success, He 
lowered Nucles's record by 2min. sisec, 
because he accomplished the 2,000 jumps in 
1 imin. 39sec, an hourly speed of over 10,300 
jumps— truly a magnificent performance. 

F torn a 1'kt^urajth. 

It might be naturally supposed that to 
watch Connor skipping, especially in the 
longer contests, was a tedious process and 
devoid of interest. Such is far from being 
the case, however, Connor is a typical 
athlete, and he can introduce consider- 
able variety into his steps that relieves the 
monotony of the spectacle. There is the 
forward lope, ordinary running style, which 
is the easiest and speediest step ; back lope, 
which is both difficult and fatiguing; double 
jump, front hop, cross arm hop, and so forth, 
With such a variety of movements, when 
one continual action becomes tiring, he can 
obtain relief by adopting some other step. 
Then, again, he is continually altering his 
pace. At one moment he is proceeding 
along in an easy, regular step, while at 
another he is turning the rope so quickly that 
his feet do not appear to touch the ground, 
and the revolving rope makes a peculiar and 
fascinating hiss in its progress. 

Three days after his defeat of Nucles's 
exploit he created another fast record by 
making 7,000 skips in 47mm. 45sec, at 
the Oil City Athleric Club, The following 




week he completed an even finer performance 
by making 10, in steps in 1 hr. iSmin., 
which still ranks as one of his finest and 
fastest performances. His last exhibition 
was given at Warren, Pennsylvania, some 
time ago, when he made 1,000 jumps in 
5min. 17 sec. Since that time Connor has 
been resting upon his triumphs, awaiting 
patiently the arrival of the next challenger to 
the skipping-rope championship, but ap- 
parently other athletes are content to allow 
Connor to remain in undisputed possession 
of his unique record. 


Aftkr two and a half years of steady labour 
William Jankowsky, a young carriage-builder 
of Brooklyn, U.S.A., has completed the most 


*MJfclif-UL CLOCK. 



remarkable timepiece known to the annals of 
the craft. Not only does this clock keep 
correct time, but it has several sets of chimes, 
electric lights, a phonograph, a music-box, a 
procession of ecclesiastical figures, a couple of 
miniature breech-loading cannon, a gas warm- 
ing device, an electric fan, and an alarm. It 
took Mr* jankowsky just one year to collect 
the materials desired, to draft the design, and 
cut out with a scroll-saw the hundreds of 
pieces of wood used in the construction. 

The whole affair stands 8ft. high and 4ft, 
in width and 3ft* deep* The woods used in 
making it are ebony, white maple, oak, 
mahogany, and walnut. 

In the winter time the clock is connected 
with a gas stove, and automatically warms up 
the room in the morning, while during the 
hot summer days it operates an electric fan. 
When the clock is wound 
up and its various devices 
put into operation it affords 
an amusing entertainment, 
for this wonderful time- 
piece does practically every- 
thing but talk, and when 
the phonograph is started it 
even seems to have the 
power of speech. 

When visited by a repre- 
sentative of this magazine 
Mr. jankowsky ushered 
his guest into the drawing- 
room and promptly ex- 
hibited the clock. 

''There she stands; a 
pretty ornament, is it not ? 13 
he smilingly asked, point- 
ing to the unique time- 
teller ; ** that represents two 
and a half years of hard 
labour and thought 

M I am a carriage-maker 
by trade, and am kept 
busily employed during the 
day, so I had only my 
evenings to work on my 
clock. Many and many a 
time I sat up until the wee 
small hours perfecting my 
design or finishing some 
delicate bit of carving, 
Two batteries are employed 
in producing the force 
necessary to operate all the 
devices pertaining to this 
timepiece, I will set it 

" As you will notice, first 
Original from 


I I'haU 



one hears the tinkling of a fine set of 
chimes in the twin tower Those towers 
represent hours of hard labour, and are, to 
my thinking, the crowning glory of the 
clock. The scrollwork and intricate design 
of the woodwork of these towers called forth 
all my ingenuity* 

f ( The soldier guarding the towers suggested 
to me the cannons underneath. As the hcurs 
strike these four cannon go off with a bang, 
produced by an ordinary powder cap. I 
have been told that the firing of the cannon 
combined with the martial airs which the 
phonograph and organ send forth, together 
with the beating of the drums, give the im- 
pression of the waging of a fierce war. 

u The clock is lighted by forty small 
electric bulbs, and when these tiny lights 
flash out here and there the procession of 

figures in the balcony of the clock slowly 
starts In motion and passes in review. 

11 Taking the working of the different 
devices in order, after a brief pause the 
melody of the chimes is succeeded by a 
familiar air evoked from the music -box 
concealed in the centre of the clock body. 
When this has ceased the phonograph in the 
lower half of the structure begins in crescendo 
tones Sousa's march. At the climax the 
twin cannon are fired by electricity. 

u In cold weather I set a battery by my 
clock, and at the desired hour half-a-dozen 
gas-jets in a stove are ignited, and the room 
is warmed before I have finished breakfast. 
In warm weather I attach an electric fan, 
which is similarly regulated ; thus in winter 
my clock keeps me warm, while in summer 
it cools me." 


Upon the occasion of one of the elections 
in New York City a short while ago it was 
decided to give a massed band selection in 
the Madison Square one evening, A difficulty 
however arose, which threatened to prevent 
the realization of the scheme. How w-.-tre 
the various bands to be kept in time? It 
was obviously impossible for a man to 
conduct the mam ns nth orchestra, owing 
to the darkness. How the dilemma was suc- 
cessfully surmounted may be seen from our 

illustration. At the summit of the tall tower, 
crowning the building known as the Madison 
Square Gardens Building, a huge electric 
search-light was erected, and the brilliant ray 
of light emanating from this search-light 
served as the baton. It was manipulated up 
and down in steady, regular beats, and the 
bands were thus enabled to keep time. The 
upward and downward movements of this 
unique baton may be distinctly observed by 
the flashes of the light 

Ftvm aj 





[tVc shall he glad to receive Contributions to this section t and to pay for such as ate accepted] 

**I send you a photograph of no fewer than ten 
birds* nests which I took at (Ik- beginning of April t 
built in each step of a step- ladder that was hung on the 
wall of a pumping engine-house yard here. The 
engine in question had not been at work for over a 
week, and in the meantime these bin Is had started 
building their nests. Three of them contained eggs 
when found. The birds forsook their homes as soon as 
I he owners started using the engine again. What is most 
remarkable is that all the nests are built by thrushes*, 
which birds I have never known to build together 
before/ 1 — Mr. \\ Phillips, 28. < Jxford Slreet, liletchley. 

** I have pleasure in sending you herewith what is 
considered a unique photograph of a fallinr horse. 
This was t :ik en by, my self at the Somerset AgricuhuraJ 
Show held at Taunton on May loth. The horse 
failed to rise sufficiently at the bank, which he struck 

with his chest, and the impetus <-.uim'..1 him to Inrn n 
complete somersault, the picture showing it completely 
upright. The horse fell by the side of the rider* both 
of whom escaped unhurt/' — Mr. H. M. Cooper, 
; East Street, Taunton. [We congratulate Mr. 
Cooper on the wonderful luck and no mean skill 
which have enabled him to secure this remark- 
able pho [ ograph a I 
the psychological mo* 
nienL This is prol«i- 
bly the most curious 
instantaneous photo- 
graph which has ap- 
peared in the Curiosi- 
ties section up to the 

''The man shown 
inside I he lw>tllc t a 

picture of which I send you* was 
alive and well, though the bottle 
was an ordinary pint one. The 
illusion is, of course, purely a 
photographic one/*— Mr. C H. 
Breed, LawrertccviLle, New 

Copyright, 1901, by tJeorgc Ncwrtcn, Liniiii-ii. 




for the sentence is a command- 
a command, moreover, inviting 
prompt compliance." — Mr. C. H. 
Chandler, 20, Allison Road, 
Harringay, N, 

"Things often are not what they 
seem. Tins tree at first sight looks 
as if it were covered with large, 
luscious pears, or some equally 
delectable fruit. However, a closer 
inspection of the photograph will 
reveal the fact that the ' fruit ' 
consists of nothing more or less 
than dozens of flying foxes. This 
particular tree is in the town of 
Madras* and tn the evening it is 


" Herewith a photograph of a quaint snake 
puzzle box, manufactured by one of the Boer 
prisoners of war at St* Helena. A number 
of the Boer prisoners of war at St, Helena, 
and also in Ceylon, are very clever at wood- 
caiving, and several of them arc making el 
considerable income by carving on pipes, 
which I imagine is a much, more agreeable 
occupation than sitting behind Iwjulders, on 
kopjes, under the persistent fire of the merci- 
less rooinek. On opening the lid, by causing 
it to slide with the forefinger, the snake seen 
in the photo* suddenly emerges therefrom 
and inflicts a prick by means of I he point of 
a pin cunningly fitted in its mouth. 1 ' — Master 
C A. V„ Cade II , Fox Hill Lodge, Upper 
Norwood, London j S.E. 

"This is not Chinese, Japanese, or any 
other 'oe. 1 It is English, or rather it would 
I* if the iwn lines were merged into one. 
Those who cannot read the sentence as it 
stands might copy the two separate lines, 
precisely as given, one line on either side of 
a piece of cardboard, cut exactly to ske, and 
pasted hack to I jack on cirdlvoard or some 
such substance. A small hole should be 
pierced in either end of the cardl>oard through 
which a couple of pieces of very fine twine, 
about the length of one*s finger, should he 
ihreadcd. Give the twine a rapid circular 
movement l>elween the fingers and thumbs 
and the writing wfU it once be apparent. Fascinat- 
ing ladies are hereby cautioned against trying the 
experiment in the presence of up-to-date young men, 

a sight well worth seeing, 
large number of the fly in 
quietly on the tree, like 

by CiOOgle 

During the day-time a 
g foxes remain hanging 
huge l>ats (as shown in 
the photograph), but after 
sunset hundreds come 
from all quarters, this 
tree being a regular ren- 
dezvous. It is then 
thickly covered with the 
ugly creatures, and would 
make a most interesting 
photo,, bul, owing to dark- 
ness, this is quite out of 
the question." — The Rev* 
H. C B. Stone, 11. A., 
Chaplain, Waver ley 
House, Egmore, Madras. 




"The ancient custom of planting the 
1 penny ■ hedge T or * horngarth ' was 
observed at Whitby on the r 5th May 
l.isr. In Henry IL's time the lords 
of Ugglebarnhy and S nekton hunted a 
boat into a hermit's chapel It died, 
and the hounds were kept uut by the 
hermit, whom the lords in their anger 
slew. The dying hermit decreed that 
as penance the lords had, at each 
Ascension Eve, to gather wood and 
carry it 10 the water's edge at low 
tide and drive in stakes. Should the 
erection not withstand three tides the 
lands of the lords should be forfeited to 
the Abbot of Whitby. The ceremony 
is performed yearly in Whitby harbour 
by Mr* Isaac flat ton and Mr* John 
Rickinson, the latter representing the 
lord of the manor. The blowing of 
the hctrn t which is over 500 years old, 
and the custom of crying * Out on 
ye ! Out on ye I * was observed as usual. The 
photo, shows the hedge in course of construction," — 
Mr. Henry N. Pulm/in, 6, York Terrace, Whitby. 

** I send you a monogram invented and made by 
myself. It contains all the letters of the alphabet, 
twenty -six in all. They can Ije Traced with patience. 
The letter N is the smallest {in the centre), and is the 
only indUti net one." — Mr. C. W. Hooper, Keswick. 

Digitized by GOOgfC 


" I send you a snap-shot of nay youngest brother, 

taken as he was descending our tofjoggan at a pro- 

bable rate of twenty miles an hour* This sort of 

amusement will peihaps appear novel to most people, 

but is a source of much pleasure to children. It is 
ascended by steps at the far side, and when at the 
lop you either sit down 4 naturally ' or upon a mat, 
and let yourself 'go.* The sun makes the wood 
very smooth and glassy, and with the aid of a little 
turpentine and beeswax rubbed in an excellent sur- 
face can he obtained." — Mr. K. F. Guthrie, Lyndhurst, 
Moss ley Hill, Liverpool 




11 I have thought that this photograph 
of myself might be suitable for your 
Curiosity pages, and should be pleased 
to hear that Mich was the case. It was 
taken at the top of a very nasty hill near 
Cloughtou> Scarborough, by a friend. 
Some people are inclined to think the 

"This photograph represents one of ihc indicators placed in 
the bedrooms at the Holland House, New York. The pointer 
is shifted to any of the 'wants* printed on the dial, and, 
on ringing a bell, a similar indicator is actuated in the 
office, and a servant is at once dispatched This is a great 
saving in large hotels like the Holland House," — Mr. 
Marcus Smith, 

the Cross* 

ways, Totter 
idge Green, 



The effects of 
a u caniiof: 
game' 1 and g 
41 shell - out 
by a 100IL 
shell fired 
from the liuei 
trenches a L 
into Kimlicr* 
ley, a distance 
of four miles. 
This unusual 
took place on 
a Thurston 
billiard tabic 
at the EiutTal* 
Club, Khnber- 
ley, on Febru- 
ary 7th, 1900. 

board much more 
hill."— Mt. C. E. 

ki.:i:3. Sr-irlnirnin'h. 

djingurous than the 
Colling, 93, Victoria 


igmai nam 


M I am sending you a 
picture of what at first looks 
like ordinary wire netting 
but in truth it is a spiders 
skin enlarged one thousand 
times. The apparatus 
shown in the second picture 
for enlarging such minute 
objects was invented by a 
boy of fifteen. The picture 
I am sending of it is, of 
course, not quite like it was 
originally, as it is impressible 
to photograph il while in 
the dark room- The spider 
which possessed this skin 
was only a very small money 
spider, and was about one- 
fiftieth the ske of one of 
the squares on the skin. 



"When the Great Eastern was 
broken up in Liverpool some few 
years ago I purchased the large 
steam whistle which I now haye t 
and send you a photo* of it, trusting 
it will be of interest to your readers. 
The whistle is made of brass and 
weighs 981b., its height measuring 
33in, rt — Mr, F. G. White, 23, 
Adelaide Street, Blackpool, 

I also wish to add that this was the second picture the boy ever 
took, and I think it exceedingly good,"— Mr. H. B. Dresser, 
Malvern hurst > Malvern. * 


1( I am at present {April 
iSth) in South Africa, This 
photo, was taken in Charles- 
town, Natal, Military Grave- 
yard. Majuba rises to the 
left. When I developed the 
negative I noticed a cross 
and some figures on it, and 
these can be seen in the print* 
I cannot account for the 
occurrence. The time of day 
was noon \ the sun was 
hidden by clouds. There 
were no shadows either from 
the morgue -man or the graves. 
J low do you account fur it ? *' 
— Mr. R. I-L Parker, 13, 
North T'ark Road, Harrogate, 

by Google 

Original from 

(""rw^nL'' Original from 


{See f>age 253.) 

C^nr%n\* x Original from 


The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xxii. 


No. 129. 

The Hound of the Baskervilles. 





CONFESS that at these words 
a shudder passed through me. 
There was a thrill in the 
doctor's voice which showed 
that he was himself deeply 
moved by that which he told 
us. Holmes leaned forward in his excite- 
ment and his eyes had the hard, dry glitter 
which shot from them when he was keenly 

" You saw this ? " 

" As clearly as I see you." 

" And you said nothing ? " 

" What was the use ? " 

" How was it that no one else saw it ? " 

"The marks were some twenty yards from 
the body and no one gave them a thought. 
I don't suppose I should have done so had I 
not known this legend." 

"There are many sheep-dogs on the 
moor ? " 

" No doubt, but this was no sheep-dog." 

" You say it was large ? " 

" Enormous." 

44 But it had not approached the body ? " 


" What sort of night was it ?" 

"Damp and raw." 

" But not actually raining ? " 

" No." 

"What is the alley like?" 

"There are two lines of old yew hedge, 
12ft. high and impenetrable. The walk in 
the centre is about 8ft. across." 

" Is there anything between the hedges and 
the walk?" 

" Yes, there is a strip of grass about 6ft. 
broad on either side." 

Vol. xxii.— 31 

Copyright, l>y A. Conan Doyle 



" I understand that the yew hedge is 
penetrated at one point by a gate ? " 

"Yes, the wicket-gate which leads on to 
the moor." 

" Is there any other opening ? " 

" None." 

"So that to reach the Yew Alley oi*j 
either has to come down it from the house 
or else to enter it by the moor-gate ? " 

"There is an exit through a summer- 
house at the far end." 

" Had Sir Charles reached this ? " 

" No ; he lay about fifty yards from it." 

" Now, tell me, Dr. Mortimer— and this 
is important — the marks which you saw 
were on the path and not on the grass ? " 

" No marks could show on the grass." 

" Were they on the same side of the path 
as the moor-gate ? " 

" Yes ; they were on the edge of the path 
on the same side as the moor-gate." 

" You interest me exceedingly. Another 
point. Was the wicket-gate closed ? " 

" Closed and padlocked." 

" How high was it ? " 

" About 4ft high." 

" Then anyone could have got over it ? " 

" Yes." 

" And what marks did you see by the 
wicket-gate ? " 

" None in particular." 

" Good Heaven ! Did no one examine ? " 

" Yes, I examined myself." 

" And found nothing ? " 

" It was all very confused. Sir Charles 
had evidently stood there for five or ten 

" How do you know that ? " 

" Because the ash had twice dropped from 
his cigar." 

,h, t.,t,dyNfVEft^Ki^lCHIGAN 



" Excellent ! This is a colleague, Watson, 
after our own heart. Hut the marks ? " 

li He had left his own marks all over that 
small patch of gravel. I could discern no 

Sherlock Holmes struck his hand against 
his knee with an impatient gesture. 

'* If I had only been there I " he cried* 
"It is evidently a case of e\traordinary 
interest, and one which presented immense 
opportunities to the scientific expert. That 
gravel page upon which I might have read so 
much has been long ere this smudged by the 
rain and defaced by the clogs of curious 
peasants. Oh, Dr. Mortimer, Dr. Mortimer, 
to think that you should not have called me 
in ! You have indeed much to answer for." 

and most experienced of detectives is help- 

" You mean that the thing is super- 
natural ? " 

"I did not positively say so," 
" No, but you evidently think it," 
"Since the tragedy, Mr Holmes, there 
have come to my ears several incidents which 
are hard to reconcile with the settled order 
of Nature." 

" For example ? JJ 

" I find that before the terrible event 
occurred several people had seen a creature 
upon the moor which corresponds with this 
Baskerville demon, and which could not 
possibly be any animal known to science. 
They all agreed that it was a huge creature, 


"I could not call you in, Mr. Holmes, 
without disclosing these facts to the world, 
and I have already given my reasons for not 
wishing to do so. Besides, besides- " 

" Why do you hesitate ? " 

" There is a realm in which the most acute 

luminous, ghastly, and spectral. I have 
cross-examined these men, one of them a 
hard-headed countryman, one a fa r rier , 
and one a moorland farmer, who all tell 
the same story of this dreadful apparition, 
exactly corresponding to the hell-hound of 



2 45 

the legend. I assure you that there is a 
reign of terror in the district and that it is a 
hardy man who will cross the moor at night." 

"And you, a trained man of science, 
believe it to be supernatural ? " 

" I do not know what to believe." 

Holmes shrugged his shoulders. 

44 I have hitherto confined my investiga- 
tions to this world," said he. " In a modest 
way I have combated evil, but to take on 
the Father of Evil himself would, perhaps, be 
too ambitious a task. Yet you must admit 
that the footmark is material." 

" The original hound was material enough 
to tug a man's throat out, and yet he was 
diabolical as well." 

" I see that you have quite gone over to 
the supernaturalists. But now, Dr. Mortimer, 
tell me this. If you hold these views, why 
have you come to consult me at all? You 
tell me in the same breath that it is useless 
to investigate Sir Charles's death, and that 
you desire me to do it." 

" I did not say that I desired you to do it." 

" Then, how can I assist you ? " 

44 By advising me as to what I should do 
with Sir Henry Baskerville, who arrives at 
Waterloo Station " — Dr. Mortimer looked at 
his watch — " in exactly one hour and a 

44 He being the heir ? " 

" Yes. On the death of Sir Charles we 
inquired for this young gentleman, and found 
that he had been farming in Canada. From 
the accounts which have reached us he is an 
excellent fellow in every way. I speak now 
not as a medical man but as a trustee and 
executor of Sir Charles's will." 

14 There is no other claimant, I presume ? " 

" None. The only other kinsman whom 
we have been able to trace was Rodger 
Baskerville, the youngest of three brothers 
of whom poor Sir Charles was the elder. 
The second brother, who died young, is 
the father of this lad Henry. The third, 
Rodger, was the black sheep of the family. 
He came of the old masterful Baskerville 
strain, and was the very image, they tell 
me, of the family picture of old Hugo. He 
made England too hot to hold him, fled to 
Central America, and died there in 1876 of 
yellow fever. Henry is the last of the Basker- 
villes. In one hour and five minutes I meet 
him at Waterloo Station. I have had a 
wire that he arrived at Southampton this 
morning. Now, Mr. Holmes, what would 
you advise me to do with him ? " 

44 Why should he not go to the home of 
his fathers?" 

" It seems natural, does it not ? And yet, 
consider that every Baskerville who goes 
there meets with an evil fate. I feel sure 
that if Sir Charles could have spoken with 
me before his death he would have warned 
me against bringing this the last of the old 
race, and the heir to great wealth, to that 
deadly place. And yet it cannot be denied 
that the prosperity of the whole poor, bleak 
country-side depends upon his presence. 
All the good work which has been done by 
Sir Charles will crash to the ground if there 
is no tenant of the Hall. I fear lest I should 
be swayed too much by my own obvious 
interest in the matter, and that is why I 
bring the case before you and ask for your 

Holmes considered for a little time. 

44 Put into plain words, the matter is this," 
said he. " In your opinion there is a 
diabolical agency which makes Dartmoor an 
unsafe abode for a Baskerville — that is your 
opinion ? " 

"At least I might go the length of saying 
that there is some evidence that this may be so. " 

" Exactly. But surely, if your supernatural 
theory be correct, it could work the young 
man evil in London as easily as in Devon- 
shire. A devil with merely local powers like 
a parish vestry would be too inconceivable a 

" You put the matter more flippantly, Mr. 
Holmes, than you would probably do if you 
were brought into personal contact with these 
things. Your advice, then, as I understand 
it, is that the young man will be as safe in 
Devonshire as in London. He comes in fifty 
minutes. What would you recommend?" 

" I recommend, sir, that you take a cab, 
call off your spaniel who is scratching at my 
front door, and proceed to Waterloo to 
meet Sir Henry Baskerville." 

" And then ? " 

"And then you will say nothing to him 
at all until I have made up my mind about 
the matter." 

44 How long will it take you to make up 
your mind ? " 

44 Twenty-four hours. At ten o'clock to- 
morrow, Dr. Mortimer, I will be much 
obliged to you if you will call upon me here, 
and it will be of help to me in my plans for 
the future if you will bring Sir Henry Basker- 
ville with you." 

44 1 will do so, Mr. Holmes." He scribbled 
the appointment on his shirt cuff and 
hurried off in his strange, peering, absent- 
minded fashion. Holmes stopped him at 
the head of the stair. 





"Only one more question, Dr. Mortimer. 
You say tl 1 at before Sir Charles Baskcrvi lie's 
death several people saw this apparitipn 
upon the moor ? ,] 

" Three people did." 

11 Did any sec it after ? M 

" I have not heard of any." 

"Thank you* Good morning." 

Holmes returned to his seat with that quiet 
look of inward satisfaction which meant that 
he had a congenial task before him. 

w Going out, Watson ? " 

" Unless I can help you" 

" No, my dear fellow, it is at the hour of 
action that I turn to you for aid. But this 
is splendid, really unique from some points 
of view. When you pass Bradley's would 
you ask him to send up a pound of the 
strongest shag tobacco ? Thank you. It 
would be as well if you could make it con- 
venient not to return before evening. Then 
I should be very glad to compare impressions 
as to this most interesting problem which 
has been submitted to us this morning." 

I knew that seclusion and solitude were 
very necessary for my friend in those hours 

of intense mental 
concentration during 
which he weighed 
every particle of 
evidence, con- 
structed alternative 
theories, balanced 
one against the 
other, and made up 
his mind as to which 
points were essential 
and which imma- 
terial I therefore 
spent the day at my 
club and did not 
return to Baker 
Street until evening. 
It was nearly nine 
o'clock when I found 
myself in the sitting- 
room once more* 

My first impres- 
sion as I opened the 
door was that a fire 
had broken out, for 
the room was so 
filled with smoke 
that the light of the 
lamp upon the table 
was blurred by it. 
As I entered, how- 
ever, my fears were 
set at rest, for it was 
the acrid fumes of strong coarse tobacco 
which took me by the throat and set me 
coughing. Through the haze I had a vague 
vision of Holmes in his dressing-gown coiled 
up in an arm-chair with his black clay pipe 
between his lips. Several rolls of paper lay 
around hjm. 

" Caught cold, Watson ? " said he, 
" No ; it's this poisonous atmosphere," 
u I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you 
mention it." 

" Thick ! It is intolerable," 
" Open the window, then ! You have 
been at your club all day, I perceive," 
" My dear Holmes!" 
"Am I right?" 

11 Certainly, but how ? ,f 

He laughed at my bewildered expression. 
" There is a delightful freshness about you, 
Watson, which makes it a pleasure to 
exercise any small powers which I possess at 
your expense. A gentleman goes forth on a 
showery and miry day, He returns im- 
maculate in the evening with the gloss still on 
his hat and his boots. He has been a fixture 
therefore all ^Jfnal¥fcffi no * a man w ^h 




intimate friends. Where, then, could he have 
been? la it not obvious?" 

" Well, it is rather obvious**' 

"The world is full of obvious things which 
nobody by any chance ever observes. Where 
do you think that I have been ? " 

**A fixture aho," 

'* On the contrary, I have been to Devon- 

w In spirit ? " 

"Exactly. My body has remained in this 
arm-chair, and has, 
I regret to observe, 
consumed in my 
absence two large 

VILLI mam. W Tin-: 

pots of coffee and an incredible amount of 
tobacco. After you left 1 sent down to 
Slam ford's for the Ordnance map of this 
portion of the moor, and my spirit has 
hovered over it all day. I flatter myself 
that I could find my way about." 
"A large scale map, I presume?" 
"Very large/' He unrolled one section 

and held it over his knee. " Here you have 
the particular district which concerns us, 
That is Baskerville Hall in the middle." 
u With a wood round it ? " 
" Exactly. I fancy the Yew Alley, though 
not marked under that name, must stretch 
along this line, with the moor, as you perceive, 
upon the right of it. This small clump of 
buildings here is the hamlet of Grimpen, 
where our friend Dr. Mortimer has his head- 
quarters. Within a radius of five miies there 
are, as you sec, only a very few 
scattered dwellings. Here is 
Ixifter Hall, which was men- 
tioned in the narrative. There 
is a house indicated here which 
may be the residence of the 
naturalist— Stapleton, if I re- 
member right, was his name, 
Here are two moorland farm- 
houses, High Tor and Foul mire. 
Then fourteen miles away the 
great convict prison of Prince- 
town, Between and around 
these scattered points extends 
the desolate, lifeless moor. This, 
then, is the stage upon which 
tragedy has been played, and 
upon which we may help to 
play it again." 

" It must be a wild place." 
" Yes, the setting is a worthy 
one. If the devil did desire to 
have a hand in the affairs of 

men " 

" Then you are your- 
self inclining to the 
supernatural explana- 

"The devil's agents 
may be of flesh and 
blood, may they not ? 
There are two questions 
waiting for us at the 
outset, The one is whether any crime has been 
committed at all; the second is, what is the 
crime and how was it committed ? Of course, 
if Dr. Mortimer's surmise should be correct, 
and we are dealing with forces outside the 
ordinary laws of Nature, there is an end of our 
investigation. But we are bound to exhaust 
all other hypotheses before falling back 
upon this one. I think we'll shut that 
window again, if you don't mind. It is a 
singular thing, but I find that a concentra- 
ted atmosphere helps a concentration of 
thought. I have not pushed it to the length 
of getting into a box to think, but that 
is the logtGatiijdimtftbftiei'Of my convictions. 




Have you turned the case over in your 
mind ? " 

11 Yes, I have thought a good deal of it in 
the course of the day/' 

" What do you make of it ? " 

" It is very bewildering." 

" It has certainly a character of its own. 
There are points of distinction about it 
That change in the footprints, for example, 
What do you make of that ? " 

"Mortimer said that the man had walked 
on tiptoe down that portion of the alley." 

c< He only repeated what some fool had 
said at the inquest. Why should a man 
walk on tiptoe down the alley ? " 

"What then?" 

" He was running, Watson — running des- 
perately, running for his life, running unLil he 
burst his heart and fell dead upon his face," 

"Running from 
what ? " 

"There lies our 
problem. There are 
indications that the 
man was crazed with 
fear before ever he 
began to run." 

" How can you say- 
that ? " 

**I am presuming 
that the cause of his 
fears came to him 
across the moor. If 
that were so, and it 
seems most probable, 
only a man who had 
lost his wits would 
have run from the 
house instead of to- 
wards it, If the gipsy's 
evidence may be taken 
as true, he ran w T ith 
cries for help in the 
direction where help 
was least* likely to be, 
Then, again, whom 
way he waiting Tor 
that night, and why 
was he waiting for 
him in the Yew Alley 
rather than in his own 
house ? " 

"You think that 
he was waiting for someone?'' 

"The man was elderly and infirm. We 
can understand his taking an evening stroll, 
but the ground was damp and the night in- 
clement, Ts it natural that he should stand 
for five or ten minutes, as Dr. Mortimer, with 

more practical sense than I should have given 
him credit for, deduced from the cigar ash?" 
"But he went out every evening. 51 
" I think it unlikely that he waited at the 
moor-gate every evening. On the contrary, 
the evidence is that he avoided the moor. 
That night he waited there. It was the night 
before he made his departure for London. 
The thing takes shape, Watson, It becomes 
coherent Might I ask you to hand me 
my violin, and we will postpone all further 
thought upon this business until we have had 
the advantage of meeting Dr. Mortimer and 
Sir Henry Baskerville in the morning, 5? 

HK IlfcNNV ItAMtttltl'lLLB, 



Our breakfast-table was cleared early, and 
Holmes waited in his dressing-gown for the 
promised interview. 
Our clients were 
punctual to their 
appointment, for the 
clock had just struck 
ten when Dr. Mortimer 
was shown up, followed 
by the young Baronet. 
The latter was a small, 
alert, dark-eyed man 
about thirty years of 
age, very sturdily built, 
with thick black eye- 
brows and a strong, 
pugnacious face. He 
wore a ruddy -tin ted 
tweed suit, and had the 
weather-beaten appear- 
ance of one who has 
spent most of his time 
in the open air, and 
yet there was some- 
thing in his steady eve 
and the quiet assurance 
of his bearing which 
indicated the gentle- 

"This is Sir Henry 
Baskerville," said Dr. 

" Why, yes," said 
he, "and the strange 
thing is, Mr + Sherlock 
Holmes, that if my 
friend here had not proposed coming round 
to you this morning I should have come on my 
own. I understand that you think out little 
puzzles, and I've had one this morning which 
wants more thinking out than I am able to 

give to it" original from 




" Pray take a seat, Sir Henry. Do I 
understand you to say that you have yourself 
had some remarkable experience since you 
arrived in London?" 

" Nothing of much importance, Mr. 
Holmes, Only a joke, as like as not It 
was this letter, if you can call it a letter, 
which reached me this morning," 

He laid an envelope upon the table, and 
we all bent over it. It was of common 
quality, greyish in colour. The address, 
"Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumber- 
land Hotel," was printed in rough 
characters; the postmark "Charing 
Cross," and the date 
of posting the pre- 
ceding evening. 

"Who knew that 
you were going to 
the Northumberland 
Hotel?" asked 
Holmes, glancing 
keenly across at our 

" No one could 
have known. We 
only decided after I 
met I)r, Mortimer." 

"But Dr. Morti- 
mer was no doubt 
already stopping 
there ? » 

" No, I had been 
staying with a 
friend/' said the 
doctor. " There was 
no possible indica- 
tion that we intended 
to go to this hotel" 

" Hum ! Someone seems to be very deeply 
interested in your movements." Out of the 
envelope he took a half sheet of foolscap 
paper folded into four. This he opened and 
spread flat upon the table. Across the 
middle of it a single sentence had been 
formed by the expedient of pasting printed 
words upon it, It ran: "as you value your 
life or your reason keep away from the moor." 
The word " moor" only was printed in ink. 

"Now," said Sir Henry Raskerville, "per- 
haps you will tell me, Mr. Holmes, what in 
thunder is the meaning of that, and who it is 
that takes so much interest in my affairs? " 

"What do you make of it, Dr, Mortimer? 
You must allow that there is nothing super- 
natural about this, at any rate ?" 

" No, sir, but it might very well come 
from someone who was convinced that the 
business is supernatural.' 

VoL xjcii.— 33 

"What business? 11 a^ked Sir Henry, 
sharply, " It seems to me that all you 
gentlemen know a great deal more than I do 
about my own affairs/ 3 

"You shall share our knowledge before 
you leave this room, Sir Henry. I 
promise you that," said Sherlock Holmes. 
u We will confine ourselves for the present 
with your permission to this very interesting 
document* which must have been put together 

OVKk ll." 

by Google 

and posted yesterday evening. Have you 
yesterday's Times, Watson ? " 

" It is here in the corner." 

" Might I trouhle you for it— the inside 
page, please, with the leading articles ? " He 
glanced swiftly over it, running his eyes up 
and down the columns. " Capital article this 
on Free Trade. Permit me to give you an 
extract from it. ' You may be cajoled into 
imagining that your own special trade or 
Original from 




your own industry will be encouraged by 
a protective tariff, but it stands to reason 
that such legislation must in the long run 
keep away wealth from the country, diminish 
the value of our imports, and lower the 
general conditions of life in this island.' 
What do you think of that, Watson ? " cried 
Holmes, in high glee, rubbing his hands 
together with satisfaction. " Don't you 
think that is an admirable sentiment ? " 

Dr. Mortimer looked at Holmes with an 
air of professional interest, and Sir Henry 
Baskerville turned a pair of puzzled dark 
eyes upon me. 

" I don't know much about the tariff and 
things of that kind," said he ; " but it seems 
to me we've got a bit off the trail so far as 
that note is concerned." 

than you do, but I fear that even he has not 
quite grasped the significance of this sen- 

" No, I confess that I see no connection." 

" And yet, my dear Watson, there is so 
very close a connection that the one is 
extracted out of the other. ' You,' ' your,' 
' your,' ' life,' ' reason,' i value,' ' keep away,' 
4 from the.' Don't you see now whence these 
words have been taken ? " 

" By thunder, you're right ! Well, if that 
isn't smart ! " cried Sir Henry. 

" If any possible doubt remained it is 
settled by the fact that * keep away ' and 
1 from the ' are cut out in one piece." 

" Well, now— so it is ! " 

" Really, Mr. Holmes, this exceeds any- 
thing which I could have imagined," said 
Dr. Mortimer, gazing at my friend in amaze- 
ment. " I could understand anyone saying 
that the words were from a newspaper ; but 
that you should name which, and add that it 
came from the leading article, is really one 
of the most remarkable things which I have 
ever known. How did you do it ? " 

" I presume, doctor, that you could tell 
the skull of a negro from that of an 
Esquimaux ? " 

" Most certainly." 

" But how ? " 

" Because that is my special hobby. The 
differences are obvious. The supra-orbital 
crest, the facial angle, the maxillary curve, 
the " 

11 But this is my special hobby, and the 
differences are equally obvious. There is as 
much difference to my eyes between the 
leaded bourgeois type of a Times article and 


the slovenly print of an evening halfpenny 
paper as there could be between your negro 
and your Esquimaux. The detection of types 
is one of the most elementary branches of 
knowledge to the special expert in crime, 
though I confess that once when I was very 
young I confused the Leeds Mercury with the 
Western Morning News. But a Times leader 
is entirely distinctive, and these words could 
have been taken from nothing else. As it 
was done yesterday the strong probability 
was that we should find the words in yester- 
day's issue." 

"So far as I can follow you, then, Mr. 
Holmes," said Sir Henry Baskerville, " some- 
one cut out this message with a scissors " 

" Nail-scissors," said Holmes. " You can 
see that it was a very short- bladed scissors, 
since the cutter had to take two snips over 
1 keep away,' " 

" That is so. Someone, then, cut out the 
message with a pair of short-bladed scissors, 
pasted it with paste " 

"Gum," said Holmes. 

"With gum on to the paper. But I want 
to know why the word * moor ' should have 
been written ? " 

" Because he could not find it in print 
The other words were all simple and might 
be found in any issue, but ' moor ' would be 
less common." 

"Why, of course, that would explain it. 
Have you read anything else in this message, 
Mr. Holmes ? " 

"There are one or two indications, and 
yet the utmost pains have been taken to 
remove all clues. The address, you observe, 
is printed in rough characters. But the 
Times is a paper which is seldom found in 
any hands but those of the highly educated. 
We may take it, therefore, that the letter was 
composed by an educated man who wished 
to pose as an uneducated one, and his effort 
to conceal his own writing suggests that that 
writing might be known, or come to be 
known, by you. Again, you will observe 
that the words are not gummed on in an 
accurate line, but that some are much higher 
than others. * Life,' for example, is quite out 
of its proper place. That may point to care- 
lessness or it may point to agitation and hurry 
upon the part of the cutter. On the whole I 
incline to the latter view, since the matter 
was evidently important, and it is unlikely 
that the composer of such a letter would be 
careless. If he were in a hurry it opens up 
the interesting question why he should be in 
a hurry, since any letter posted up to early 
morning would reach Sir Henry before 




he would leave his hotel Did the composer 
fear an interruption — and from whom ?" 

"We are coming now rather into the 
region of guess work," said Dr. Mortimer. 

(l Say, rather, into the region where we 
balance probabilities and choose the most 
likely. It is the scientific use of the imagin- 
ation, but we have always some material basis 
on which to start our speculations. Now, 
you would call it a guess, no doubt, but I 
am almost certain that this address has been 
written in an hotel.'* 

" How in the world can you say that?" 

"If you ex- 
amine it carefully 
you will see that 
both the pen and 
the ink have given 
the writer trouble. 
The pen has splut- 
tered twice in a 
single word, and 
has run dry three 
times in a short 
address, showing 
that there was very 
little ink in the 
bottle. Now, a 
private pen or ink- 
bottle is seldom 
allowed to be in 
such a state, and 
the combination 
of the two must 
be quite rare* But 
you know the hotel 
ink and the hotel 
pen, where 
rare to get 
thing else, 
I have very 
hesitation in 
ing that could we 
examine the waste- 
paper baskets of 
the hotels round 
Charing Cross 
until we found the 

it is 





remains of the 

mutilated Times 

leader we could lay our hands straight upon 

the person who sent this singular message. 

Halloa! Halloa! What's this ? " 

He was carefully examining the foolscap, 
upon which the words were pasted, holding 
it only an inch or two from his eyes, 

" Well ? " 

" Nothing," said he, throwing it down. "It 
is a blank half-sheet of paper, without even 




a watermark upon it. I think we have drawn 
as much as we can from this curious letter; 
and now, Sir Henry, has anything else of 
interest happened to you since you have been 
in London?" 

" Why, no, Mr. Holmes. I think not" 
"You have not observed anyone follow or 
watch you ? n 

" I seem to have walked right into the 
thick of a dime novel," said our visitor. 
"Why in thunder should anyone follow or 
watch me ? " 

'* We are coming to that. You have 
nothing rise to report to us be- 
fore we go into this matter ? ?> 
" Well, it depends upon 
what you think worth re- 

" I think anything out of 
the ordinary 
routine of life well 
worth reporting," 

Sir Henry 

Lt I don't know 
much of British 
life yet, for 1 have 
spent nearly all my 
time in the States 
and in Canada. 
But I hope that 
to lose one of your 
boots is not part 
of the ordinary 
routine of life over 

"Y T ou have lost 
one of your boots?" 
"My dear sir," 
cried Dr. Mor- 
timer, "it is only 
mislaid. You will 
find it when you 
return to the hotel 
What is the use of 
troubling Mr, 
Holmes with trifles 
of this kind?" 

" Well, he asked 
me for anything 
outside the ordinary routine." 

" Exactly," said Holmes, " however foolish 
the incident may seem. You have lost one 
of your boots, you say ? " 

" Well, mislaid it, anyhow. I put them 
both outside my door last night, and there 
was only one in the morning. I could get 
no sense out of the chap who cleans them. 
The worst of it is that I only bought the pair 
Original from 




last night in the Strand, and I have never 
had them on." 

"If you have never worn them, why did 
you put them out to be cleaned ? " 

"They were tan boots, and had never 
been varnished. That was why I put them 

"Then I understand that on your arrival 
in London yesterday you went out at once 
and bought a pair of boots ? " 

" I did a good deal of shopping. Dr. 
Mortimer here went round with me. You 
see, if I am to be squire down there I must 
dress the part, and it- may be that I have got 
a little careless in my ways out West. 
Among other things I bought these brown 
boots — gave six dollars for them — and had 
one stolen before ever I had them on my feet." 

"It seems a singularly useless thing to 
steal," said Sherlock Holmes. " I confess 
that I share Dr. Mortimer's belief that it will 
not be long before the missing boot is found." 

" And, now, gentlemen," said the Baronet, 
with decision, " it seems to me that I 
have spoken quite enough about the little 
that I know. It is time that you kept your 
promise and gave me a full account of what 
we are all driving at." 

" Your request is a very reasonable one," 
Holmes answered. " Dr. Mortimer, I think 
you could not do better than to tell your 
story as you told it to us." 

Thus encouraged, our scientific friend 
drew his papers from his pocket, and 
presented the whole case as he had done 
upon the morning before. Sir Henry Basker- 
ville listened with the deepest attention, and 
with an occasional exclamation of surprise. 

" Well, I seem to have come into an 
inheritance with a vengeance," said he, when 
the long narrative was finished. "Of course, 
I've heard of the hound ever since I was 
in the nursery. It's the pet story of the 
family, though I never thought of taking it 
seriously before. But as to my uncle's death 
— well, it all seems boiling up in my head, 
and I can't get it clear yet. You don't seem 
quite to have made up your mind whether 
it's a case for a policeman or a clergyman." 


" And now there's this affair of the letter 
to me at the hotel. I suppose that fits into 
its place." 

"It seems to show that someone knows 
more than we do about what goes on upon 
the moor," said Dr. Mortimer. 

"And also," said Holmes, "that someone 
is not ill-disposed towards you, since they 
warn you of danger." 

by Google 

"Or it may be that they wish, for their 
own purposes, to scare me away." 

" Well, of course, that is possible also. I 
am very much indebted to you, Dr. Mortimer, 
for introducing me to a problem which pre- 
sents several -interesting alternatives. But 
the practical point which we now have to 
decide, Sir Henry, is whether it is or is not 
advisable for you to go to Baskerville Hall." 

"Why should I not go?" 

"There seems to be danger." 

" Do you mean danger from this family 
fiend or do you mean danger from human 
beings ? " 

" Well, that is what we have to find out." 

"Which ever it is, my answer is fixed. There 
is no devil in hell, Mr. Holmes, and there is 
no man upon earth who can prevent me from 
going to the home of my own people, and 
you may take that to be my final answer." 
His dark brows knitted and his face flushed 
to a dusky red as he spoke. It was evident 
that the fiery temper of the Baskervilles was 
not extinct in this their last representative. 
" Meanwhile," said he, " I have hardly had 
time to think over all that you have told me. 
It's a big thing for a man to have to under- 
stand and to decide at one sitting. I should 
like to have a quiet hour by myself to 
make up my mind. Now, look here, Mr. 
Holmes, it's half-past eleven now and I am 
going back right away to my hotel. Suppose 
you and your friend, Dr. Watson, come round 
and lunch with us at two ? I'll be able to 
tell you more clearly then how this thing 
strikes me." 

" Is that convenient to you, Watson ? " 

" Perfectly." 

" Then you may expect us. Shall I have 
a cab called ? " 

" I'd prefer to walk, for this affair has 
flurried me rather." 

" I'll join you in a walk, with pleasure," 
said his companion. 

"Then we meet again at two o'clock. 
Au revoir, and good morning ! " 

We heard the steps of our visitors descend 
the stair and the bang of the front door. 
In an instant Holmes had changed from the 
languid dreamer to the man of action. 

" Your hat and boots, Watson, quick ! 
Not a moment to lose ! " He rushed into 
his room in his dressing-gown and was back 
again in a few seconds in a frock-coat. We 
hurried together down the stairs and into 
the street. Dr. Mortimer and Baskerville 
were still visible about two hundred yards 
ahead of us in the direction of Oxford Street. 

"Shall I run on and stop them ? " 
Original from 





u Xot for the world, my dear Watson. I 
am perfectly satisfied with your company if 
you will tolerate mine. Our friends are wise, 
for it is certainly a very fine morning for a 

He quickened his pace iftftil we had 
decreased the distance which divided us by 
about half. Then, still keeping a hundred 
yards behind, we followed into Oxford Street 
and so down Regent Street Once our 
friends stopped and stared into a shop 
window, upon which Holmes did the same. 
An instant afterwards he gave a little cry of 
satisfaction, and, following the direction of 
his eager eyes, I saw that a hansom cab with 
a man inside which had halted on the other 
side of the street was now walking slowly 
onwards again, 

"There's our man, Watson I Come 
along ! We'll have a good look at him, if we 
can do no more," 

At that instant I was 
aware of a bushy black 
beard and a pair of 
piercing eyes turned 
ypon us through the 
side window of the 
cab + Instantly the trap- 
door at the top flew 
up, something was 
screamed to the driver, 
and the cab flew madly 
off down Regent Street 
Holmes looked eagerly 
round for another, but 
no empty one was in 
sight Then he dashed 
in wild pursuit amid 
the stream of the traffic, 
but the start was too 
great, and already the 
cab was out of sight. 

"There now ! n said 
Holmes, bitterly, as he 
emerged panting and 
white with vexation 
from the tide of 
vehicles. * l Was ever 
such bad luck and such 
bad management, too ? 
Watson, Watson, if you 
are an honest man you 
will record this also 
and set it against my 
successes ! " 

11 W ho was the 
man ? " 

li l have not an idea." 

"Well* it was evident from what we have 
heard that Ibskerville has been very closely 
shadowed by someone since he has been in 
town. How else could it by known so quickly 
that it was the Northumberland Hotel which 
he had chosen? If they had followed him 
the first day I argued that they would follow 
him also the second, You may have 
observed that I twice strolled over to the 
window while Dr. Mortimer was reading his 

" Yes j I remember." 

11 1 was looking out for loiterers in the 
street, but I saw none. We are dealing with 
a clever man, Watson, This matter cuts 
very deep, and though I have not finally 
made up my mind whether it is a benevolent 
or a malevolent agency which is in touch 
with us, lam conscious always of power and 
design. When our friends left I at once 

14 A spy?" 

by Google 

\\mK AKK Tll£> NAM MS o 

Urigmal from 



followed them in the hopes of marking down 
their invisible attendant. So wily was he 
that he had not trusted himself upon foot, 
but he had availed himself of a cab, so that 
he could loiter behind or dash past them 
and so escape their notice. His method had 
the additional advantage that if they were to 
take a cab he was all ready to follow them. 
It has, however, one obvious disadvantage." 

" It puts him in the power of the Cab- 


" What a pity we did not get the number!" 

"My dear Watson, clumsy as I have 
been, you surely do not seriously imagine 
that I neglected to get the number? 2704 
is our man. But that is no use to us for the 

" I fail to see how you could have done 

"On observing the cab I should have 
instantly turned and walked in the other 
direction. I should then at my leisure have 
hired a second cab and followed the first at 
a respectful distance, or, better still, have 
driven to the Northumberland Hotel and 
waited there. When our unknown had 
followed Baskerville home we should have 
had the opportunity of playing his own game 
upon himself, and seeing where he made for. 
As it is, by an indiscreet eagerness, which 
was taken advantage of with extraordinary 
quickness and energy by our opponent, we 
have betrayed ourselves and lost our 

We had been sauntering slowly down 
Regent Street during this conversation, and 
Dr. Mortimer, with his companion, had long 
vanished in front of us. 

"There is no object in our following 
them," said Holmes. "The shadow has 
departed and will not return. We must see 
what further cards we have in our hands, and 
play them with decision. Could you swear 
to that man's face within the cab." 

" I could swear only to the beard." 

"And so could I — from which I gather 
that in all probability it was a false one. A 
clever man upon so delicate an errand has 
no use for a beard save to conceal his 
features. Come in here, Watson ! " 

He turned into one of the district mes- 
senger offices, where he was warmly greeted 
by the manager. 

" Ah, Wilson, I see you have not forgotten 
the little case in which I had the good 
fortune to help you ? " 

" No, sir, indeed I have not. You saved 
my good name, and perhaps my life." 

" My dear fellow, you exaggerate. I have 
some recollection, Wilson, that you had 
among your boys a lad named Cartwright, 
who showed some ability during the investi- 

" Yes, sir, he is still with us." 

" Could you ring him up ? — thank you ! 
And I should be glad to have change of this 
five-pound note." 

A lad of fourteen, with a bright, keen face, 
had obeyed the summons of the manager. 
He stood now gazing with great reverence at 
the famous detective. 

" Let me have the Hotel Directory," said 
Holmes. " Thank you ! Now, Cartwright, 
there are the names of twenty-three hotels 
here, all in the immediate neighbourhood of 
Charing Cross. Do you see ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" You will visit each of these in turn." 

" Yes, sir." 

" You will begin in each case by giving 
the outside porter one shilling. Here are 
twenty-three shillings." 

"Yes, sir." 

" You will tell him that you want to see 
the waste paper of yesterday. You will say 
that an important telegram has miscarried 
and that you are looking for it. You under- 

" Yes, sir." 

" But what you are really looking for is the 
centre page of the Times with some holes cut 
in it with scissors. Here is a copy of the 
Times. It is this page. You could easily 
recognise it, could you not ? " 

"Yes, sir." 

" In each case the outside porter will send 
for the hall porter, to whom also you will give 
a shilling. Here are twenty-three shillings* 
You will then learn in possibly twenty cases 
out of the twenty-three that the waste of the 
day before has been burned or removed. In 
the three other cases you will be shown a 
heap of paper and you will look for this page 
of the Times among it The odds are enor- 
mously against your finding it. There are ten 
shillings over in case of emergencies. Let 
me have a report by wire at Baker Street 
before evening. And now, Watson, it only 
remains for us to find out by wire the 
identity of the cabman, No. 2704, and then 
we will drop into one of the Bond Street 
picture galleries and fill in the time until we 
are due at the hotel" 

{To be continued.) 

by Google 

Original from 

The History of the British Association, 

By John Mills. 


N the eleventh day of the 
current month there will be a 
great concentration of leading 
men of science in the City of 
Glasgow. Chemists, physicists, 
mathematicians, astronomers, 
naturalists, geographers, explorers, engineers, 
economists, and other specialists in every 
branch of human knowledge will, for one 
free and easy week, quit the usual routes of 
research and sit down together by the River 
Clyde, not to weep, but to cheerfully present 
to each other, to the world, and to posterity 
the fruits which they have individually 
gleaned m the scientific vineyard during 
the last twelve months. 

It is interesting to 
note, in passing, that 
among the members of 
the Association there is a 
combination called the 
Red Lion Club. It was 
founded by the late 
Edward Forbes and 
others, and a dinner 
generally takes place at 
the meeting. The mem- 
bers of the club are called 
Lions, and the President 
the Lion King. New 
members are known as 
cubs, and the arrange- 
ments are in the hands of 
two jackals, or the lions' 
providers, "The great 
feature is the discourse of 
the senior jackal, illustra- 
ted with diagrams, repeti- 
tions of experiments, and 
so forth, in which the 
errors, scientific and 
other, in the various 
presidential addresses and 
the chief papers of the 
meeting are pointed out, 
and suggestions suited to 
the character of the club 
thrown out Manifesta- 
tions of applause are 
usually made by roaring, 
though it is regarded as a 
breach of etiquette for a 
cub to do more than wag 
his coat-tail, and if he 
Offends against this rule 

he is liable to be called to order by the Lion 
King and removed/' A ticket of invitation 
to the club is here reproduced. 

The Association is not a secret confraternity 
of men jealously guarding the mysteries of 
their profession. It invites the public at 
large to share its advantages, having as one 
of its objects to break down those imaginary 
and hurtful barriers which exist between men 
of science and so-called men of practice. 

Just now, while preparations are in pro- 
gress for the great meeting in Glasgow, it is 
opportune to glance at the origin, aims, 
and history of the Association, and to point 
out its use to the general public I may 

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Original from 



say at the outset that His Majesty's subjects 
are equivalent to shareholders in a gigantic 
co-operative movement, in which the mem- 
bers of the British Association form the 
Board of Directors, and every man, woman, 
and child, though ignorant of the fact, 
receives regular and substantial dividends, 
increasing year by year as time rolls on. 
The Association has been and is an unseen 
body of far-sighted men working down in 
the foundations of social structures ; 
strengthening the hands of statesmen in 
making laws for the public good ; suggest- 
ing, aiding, and executing schemes for 
filling the public granaries while we are 
far advanced down the foreigner's throat, 
three-fourths of 
our food sup- 
plies coming 
from abroad ; 
f or m ulat i n g 
ways and means 
for raising coal 
from greater 
depths at a time 
when the ex- 
haustion of the 
upper seams is 
coming threat- 
eningly near ; 
better water 
supplies to 
large towns, im- 
proved drain- 
age, broader 
and sounder 
education for 
the people ; the 
seeds of these 
and a thousand 
other reforms in 
our everyday 
life were sown, 
watered, and 
the young 
plants tenderly 
nursed at the 
meetings of the British Association. 

Probably there is no one alive to-day out 
of the 325 members who attended the first 
meeting held at York on Tuesday, 27th of 
September, 1831, in the Museum of the 
Yorkshire Philosophical Society, and :it 
which Lord Milton presided. The Rev. VV. 
Vernon Harcourt, father of the Right Hon, 
Sir William Harcourt, was the virtual founder 
of the Association, OF a scientific turn of 
mind, he constructed a laboratory, and, 
aided bv his friends Davy and Wollaston, 

JPrmn a] apsoc 1 

by CjC 


occupied himself in chemical analysis. While 
he was President of the Yorkshire Philo- 
sophical Society the following letter from 
Sir David Brewster was received by the 
secretary. Professor John Phillips, who acted 
as Secretary of the Association up to the year 
1862, and was President at the Birmingham 
meeting in 1865 ; — 

Allerly, Melrose, 23rd Feb., 183 1* 

DfiAR Si r„ — I have taken the liberty of writing lo 
you on a subject of considerable importance. It is 
proposed to establish a British Association of Men of 
Scitncf, similar to that which has existed for eight 
years in Germany, and which is now patronized by 
the most powerful Sovereigns ir» that part of Europe. 
The arrangements for the first meeting are now in 
progress, and it is contemplated that il shall lie held 

in Vork, as ihe 
most central city 
of the three king- 
doms* My object 
in wriiing to you 
at present is, to 
beg that you would 
ascertain if Vork 
will furnish the 
ac c m m o d a t i o n 
necessary for so 
large a meeting, 
which might per- 
haps consist of 
alxjve one hundred 
individuals ; if the 
Vh i I o soph ica I 
Society would 
enter zealously 
intalhe plan ; and 
if the Mayor and 
influential persons 
in the town and in 
the vicinity would 
be likely 10 pro- 
mote iis objects. 
The principal 
objects of the 
socio ly would be 
to make ihe culii* 
valors of science 
acquainted with 
each other — to 
stimulate one an- 
other to new fix- 
er l ions ; to bring 
ihe objects of 
science before the 
public eye, and to take measures for advancing its 
mleresU and accelerating its progress. The st>ciety 
Mould possess no funds, make no collections, and 
hold no properly ; the expense of each anniversary 
meeting being defrayed by the members who are 
present. As these few observations will cnahle you to 
form a general opinion of the object in view, I shall 
only add that the time of meeting which is likely to 
l>e most convenient would be about the iSch or 25th 
flily. —I am, etc., 

1) + Brewster, 

The Rev, \\\ Vernon Harcourt was a man 
of great intelligence, great influence in high 
places, and great energy. He possessed the 

Original from 


A THIN. [Pl*fo, 



necessary resources for effectually helping 
Brewster to float this grand idea, and at 
the first meeting he set forth a more fully 
developed scheme with such skill, foresight, 
and good judgment, that it has remained 
practically unchanged to this day. 

It was agreed that the Association should 
employ one week in every year in pointing 
out lines in which research should move, 
proposing problems to be answered and 
calculations to be made, and setting to work 
in the most useful manner the multitude 
of humbler labourers in science who were 
anxious to know how they might direct their 
studies with the greatest advantage to science 
in general. Mr. Har- 
court then proceeded to 
read the plan of the 
Association in several 
resolutions. It was pro- 
posed a "British Associa- 
tion for the Advancement 
of Science" should be 
formed to give a stronger 
impulse and more syste- 
matic direction to the 
efforts of men of science 
in this country ; that 
members of philosophical 
societies in the British 
Empire should become 
members, by desiring 
their names to be en- 
rolled and contributing 
some small subscription; 
that the Association 
should meet annually at 
certain places in rota- 

There were no rail- 
ways in 1 83 1— at least 
none which could be of much use in aiding 
wayfarers to the ancient city of York. One 
year previous, in 1830, the Manchester and 
Liverpool line had been opened. Although 
letters of invitation were sent to all learned 
societies and all men known to be engaged 
in scientific work, the founders of the Asso- 
ciation were quite prepared for many letters 
excusing non-attendance on account of dis- 
tance, loss of time, and expense, and they did 
not even expect to see at the meeting men 
living in such far-off places as Cornwall ! 
The means of travel were scanty and dear, 
available for the most part to the rich alone, 
and men of science, as a rule, are not rich ; 
and for all ranks travelling then was beset 
with discomfort and risk. Correspondence 
by post was a slow business, and communi- 

Vol. x*ii.-33 


Prom a Photo. 

cation by telegraph was a dream of the 

The birth of the British Association oc- 
curred just on the borderland between the 
England of our grandfathers, so much like 
the ancient civilizations of Greece and Rome, 
and the England of our day filled with magic 
wonders which would perhaps scare them 
back into their graves could they but see the 
transformations wrought since 1831. He, 
therefore, that would see the sun of science 
rise higher and higher on England's horizon, 
and witness the growth of the old sciences 
and germination of the new, must follow the 
migrations of this Association from town to 
town and watch the 
doings of the members. 
The first paper was read 
by John Dal ton of Man- 
chester, and was entitled 
" Experiments on the 
quantity of food taken by 
a person in health, com- 
pared with the quantity 
of secretions and insen- 
sible perspiration." The 
experiments by Dalton 
himself. At the very first 
meeting the Association 
began that system of re- 
form which has earned 
for it the title of "The 
British Parliament of 
Science." At that time 
the Patent Laws were a 
serious impediment to 
both the progress of 
science and the free 
course of industry. It 
cost about ^400 to 
get a patent through, 
it was regarded as of 
no value until it had sustained a suit at 
law to establish its novelty. They also 
sought to reduce the tax on glass, which was 
so expensive that the manufacture of tele- 
scopes was carried on at a prohibitive cost, 
and in museums glass was too much of a 
luxury to be used for cases of specimens as 
we now see them. These museums, by the 
way, were the objects of much sarcasm in 
those days, and eminent men spoke con- 
temptuously of "the stuffed ducks, the 
skeleton in the mahogany case, the starved 
cat and rat which were found behind a 
wainscot, the broken potsherd from an 
old barrow, the tattooed head of the New 
Zealand chief; the very unpleasant-look- 

and even then 


' i: ^ d fR?i¥r'9rt?:ffl^ !ed u p in the 



spirits of wine, the flintstones and cockle 

It is curious to observe the large propor- 
tion of clergymen who formed the main body 
of the Association in its early days, and the 
almost tomplete absence of so-called pro- 
fessors of science. Now the order of things 
is entirely reversed. With the great develop- 
ment of scientific education during the last 
few decades professors have sprung up like 
mushrooms, and many of them shine as 
stars of the first magnitude in these yearly 
meetings. It is evident that the Association 
made a profound impression on the captains 
of industry throughout the land ; many 
employers enrolled themselves as members- 
machinists, ironfounders, shipbuilders, agri- 
culturists, and others, who recognised in the 
deliberations of this Parliament of Science 
the prime mover of progress in all that 
appertains to the improvement of trade, 
wholesome living, and intellectual refinement 
At York, at Oxford, at Cambridge, in their 
initial gatherings, we see them in committee 
with their heads together, endeavouring to 
fix on some piece of work for the public 

The tides? Any old salt at Hull, Liver- 
pool, or Portsmouth can tell you one day at 
what time the tide will be up the next, but 
the man of Hull would not undertake to 
perform the part of prophet for Liverpool 
or Poitsmouth. And so our Parliament of 
Science recognised that if a great number of 
observations of the ebb and flow of the 
tides were taken at many different places, 
accurate tables might be constructed which 
would render ihe prediction of the tides as 
certain as that of eclipses of the sun and 
moon. The conduct of this most important 
work was intrusted to the father of Lord 
Avebury (Sir John Lubbock), and it has 
been followed up by others, so that now 
tables are prepared in advance for all 
important ports in the civilized world. 

Oxford University, 1832, at the first meet- 
ing of the Association in that city, conferred 
the degree of Doctor on Faraday, Dalton, 
Brewster, and Brown. Lord Salisbury, as 
President of the Association in 1894, again 
at Oxford, told a story about this incident. 
He said : " A curious record came to light 
last year in the interesting biography of Dr. 
Pusey, which is the posthumous work of 
Canon Liddon. In it is related the first visit 
of the Association to Oxford in 1832. Mr. 
Keble, at that time a leader of University 
thought, writes indignantly to his friend to 
complain that the honorary degree of D.C.L. 

had been bestowed upon some of the most 
distinguished members of the Association. 
1 The Oxford doctors/ he says, * have truckled 
sadly to the spirit of the times in receiving 
the hodge-podge of philosophers as they 
did ! ' It is amusing, at this distance of 
time, to note the names of the hodge-podge 
of philosophers whose academical distinc- 
tions so sorely vexed Mr. Keble's gentle 
spirit They were Brown, Brewster, Faraday, 
and Dalton. When we recollect the lovable 
and severe character of Keble's nature, and 
that he was at that particular date probably the 
man in the University who had the greatest 
power over other men's minds, we can 
measure the distance we have traversed since 
that time, and the rapidity with which the 
converging paths of these two intellectual 
luminaries, the University and the Associa- 
tion, have approximated to each other." 

Familiarity with railways from earliest 
childhood has rendered us almost oblivious 
to the risk of life, and long journeys are now 
undertaken with scarcely a thought of danger. 
Lord Francis Egerton, as President of the 
Association at Manchester in 1842, gave a 
picture of a different order when Bessel, who 
measured the distances of some of the stars, 
visited the Association. " If ever accident is 
destined to happen on the Birmingham and 
Grand Junction Railroad, 7 ' said he, "I hope 
it may be spared us on an occasion when 
two such companions as Bessel and Herschel 
are trusting their lives to its axles. May 
they convey to us in health and safety the 
illustrious stranger, the accuracy of whose 
observations have enabled him to pass the 
limits of our system and the orbit of Uranus, 
and to measure and report the parallax and 
the distance of bodies, which no contrivance 
of optics can bring sensibly nearer to our 
vision — and which remain on the mirrors of 
our most powerful telescopes, the same points 
of unextended light which they appeared to 
the Chaldean shepherd." 

Lord Brougham takes a more cheerful 
view, and looks into the future with genuine 
optimism. " What is it that enables man to 
move almost with the wings of a dove," he 
says, " and perform the various operations of 
business, or amusement, or pleasure, to 
attend to private affairs, or to public 
concerns, half-a-dozen times in the course 
of the day, at distances thirty miles asunder, 
which in former ages it would have taken a 
week fo accomplish ? What is it that makes 
the distance between Manchester and Liver- 
pool nothing, which will enable us shortly 

to pr *El'IV6™ffllG t ^ irmi ^ ham ' 



or from Liverpool to London, in eight or ten 
hours at farthest ? What is the power that 
annihilates, as it were, the space which 
separates different communities of men— or, 
walking on the waves, brings the continents 
buried in the heart of America down to the 
sea-coast, and civilizes their inhabitants by 
commerce and intercourse with their fellow- 
men ? Why, it is steam, subdued to the use 
of man, and made as docile as and a thou- 
sand times more powerful than any domestic 
animal, instead of being the source of terror 
and dismay by its 

Among the many 
useful national 
objects which have 
teen promoted by 
the physical re- 
searches of the 
British Association 
there is one which 
calls for special 
notice, namely, the 
proposal of Robert 
Stephenson to carry 
an iron tube over the 
Menai Straits to 
sustain the great rail- 
way to Holyhead. 
"This bold pro- 
posal," said Sir R. 
Murchison, "could 
never have been 
realized if that great 
engineer had not 
been acquainted 
with the progress 
recently made in the 
knowledge of the 
strength of materials, 
and specially of 
iron ; such know- 
ledge being chiefly 
due to investigations 
in which the Associa- 
tion has taken, and 

is still taking, a conspicuous share, by 
the devotion of its friends and the em- 
ployment of its influence, 71 Nevertheless, 
at this period it was thought necessary to 
explain at each meeting the character and 
objects of the Association, and to vindicate it 
from the denunciations fulminated against it 
by individuals, and even by parties of men, 
who heid it up as dangerous to religion and 
subversive of sound principles of theology. 
Now, so marked is the change in public 

From a Photo, bjf HiUs & Samdtr*, Oxford. 

the clergy, no less than by the laity, to hold 
the meetings within their precincts. 

It was to the British Association at 
Glasgow in 1840 that Baron Liebig first com- 
municated his work on the u Application of 
Chemistry to Vegetable Philosophy." The 
philosophical explanation there given of the 
principles of manuring and cropping gave an 
immediate impulse to agriculture, and 
directed attention to the manures which are 
valuable for their ammonia and mineral in- 
gredients, and especially to guano, of which 

in 1840 only a few 
specimens had ap- 
peared in this 
country. The late 
Duke of Argyll, as 
president of the 
Association, again at 
Glasgow in 1855, 
speaking on this sub- 
ject said, "Chemistry 
has come in with 
her aid to do the 
work of Nature, and 
as the supply of 
guano becomes ex- 
hausted, limited as 
its production must 
be to a few rainless 
regions of the world, 
the importance of 
artificial mineral 
manures will in- 
crease. Already con- 
siderable capital is 
invested in the 
manufacture of 
superphosphates of 
lime, formed by the 
solution of bones in 
sulphuric acid, the 
use of which was 
first r ecom mended 
at the last Glasgow 
meeting. Of these 
artificial manures 
not less than 60,000 tons are annually sold 
in England alone." 

Hut infallibility is not to be conceded even 
to the wise men of our Parliament of Science, 
as will be seen in the case of one of the 
greatest men of this or of any age — James 
Prescott Joule, Joule's own account of the 
general reception of his work is given in a 
note, dated 1885, to his "Collected Papers." 
He says:,.." It was in 1S43 that I read a 
paper on the Calorific Effects of Magnetic 

feeling* that the Association is solicited by EletWW^l^lJftdOFtitf^HMi^anical Vali^ 



of Heat to the chemical section of the 
British Association assembled at Cork, 
With the exception of some eminent 
men, including the Earl of Rosse and a 
few others, the subject did not excite much 
general attention ; so that when I brought it 
forward again in 1847 the chairman suggested 
that, as the business of the section pressed, 
I should not read any paper, but confine 
myself to a short verbal description of my 
'1* h i s I en- 
deavoured lo 
do, and, discus- 
sion not being 
invited, the 
would have 
passed without 
comment if a 
young man had 
not risen in the 
section and, by 
his intelligent 
created a lively 
interest in the 
new theory. 
This young man 
was William 
!Lord Kelvin). 
Now Joule's 
present ment 
stands on a 

Schonbein, in 
addition to his 
report on ozone, 
brought to the 
Association a 
discovery which 
has proved to 

be of vast practical importance. The "gun- 
cotton " of Schonbein, the powers of which 
he exhibited to his colleagues, is an explosive 
substance, which was said to exercise a 
stronger projectile force than gunpowder, to 
possess the great advantages over it of pro- 
ducing little or no smoke or noise, and of 
scarcely soiling fire-arms ; "whilst no amount 
of wei injures the new substance, which is as 
servicable after being dried as in its first 
condition. The mere mention of these 
properties is sufficient to suggest its extra- 
ordinary value in warlike affairs, as also 
in every sort or subterranean blasting. " 
Nttro- glycerine was first exhibited to the 



Association by Professor de Vry at Ipswich 
in 1851. 

When it was announced at the meeting of 
the British Association in 1856 that a paper 
would be read on a new method of convert- 
ing cast iron into malleable iron without the 
use of fuel the intelligence was received by 
many with a smile of incredulity* and not a 
few "practical men " went to "Section G" 
expecting to be entertained by the visionary 

schemes of 
some ingenious 
but idle enthu- 
siast. Their ex- 
pectations were 
utterly falsified, 
A graceful tri- 
bute of admira- 
tion was paid by 
Mr. Nasmyth 
to Henry Bes- 
semer, who had 
made one of 
the greatest dis- 
coveries of the 
age. Mr. B es- 
se mer's work- 
shop was at 
Baxter I louse. 
The result of 
his experiments 
was the dis- 
covery of a pro- 
cess applicable 
to the arts of 
peace no less 
than to those of 
war. "It is 
difficult to as- 
sign any limits 
to the import- 
ance of an in- 
vention whose 
influence will 
be felt throughout the civilized world in the 
improved quality and diminished cost of one 
of the great stnples of modern industry." Sir 
Henry Bessemer not only secured the legiti- 
mate reward of his industry and ingenuity by 
the grants of patent rights in almost every part 
of Europe, but alive to the greatness of his 
invention, he resolved to adopt a wise and 
liberal policy in the grant of licenses, and to 
place the use of the process within the reach 
of all persons who might be desirous of avail- 
ing themselves of its important advantages. 

One mode in which the Association has 
materially airled n Aflf rtJWl advancement of 
S cienc ^ 5 ^.. ( ^ ?i ^^|, f itality of its 




Observatory at Kew, The objects which 
have been attained by that important estab- 
lishment are the trial and improvement of 
instrumental methods, and especially of 
those connected with the photographic regis- 
tration of natural phenomena ; the verification 
of meteorological instruments^ and the con- 
struction of standard barometers and ther- 
mometers j the supervision of apparatus to 
be employed by scientific travellers, and the 
instruction of the observers in their use. 

Sir William Fairbairn, as President of the 
mechanical section at Leeds, 1858, speaks as 

extent unexplored, field of this wonderful 

A time of intense intellectual warfare now 
overtook, not only the British Association, 
but the whole civilized world. The publi- 
cation of Darwin's revolutionizing works 
brought to Hght views on man's origin which 
made sad havoc of the poetic imaginings of 
long generations of teachers and spiritual 
leaders. At the Oxford meeting, in i860, 
the late Professor Huxley championed the 
cause of science in the face of terrible 
opposition. How the great Darwin himself 


From a Photo, bg A , Iirother§„ U, SL 4wu'i Square^ Manchester. 

follows on the completion of the Atlantic Cable: 
" The consummation of telegraphic communi- 
cation between the old and new world is the 
crowning triumph of the age, and I hail in 
common with every lover of science the 
immense benefits which the successful laying 
of the Atlantic cable is calculated to secure 
for mankind : it is another step forward in 
the great march of civilization, and the time 
is not far distant when we shall see individuals 
as well as nations united in social intercourse 
through the medium of the slender wire and 
the electric current. These are blessings 
which the most sanguine philosophers of the 
past never dreamed of; they are the realiza- 
tions bf the age in which we live ; and I 
have to congratulate the section on what has 
already been done in the wide, and to some 

found solace may be gathered from this 
passage : "The astonishment which I felt 
on first seeing a party of Fuegians on 
a wild and broken shore will never be 
forgotten by me, for the reflection at once 
rushed into my mind — such were our 
ancestors. These men were absolutely 
naked and bedaubed with paint, their long 
hair was tangled, their mouths frothed with 
excitement, and their expression was wild, 
startled, and distrustful. They possessed 
hardly any arts, and, like wild animals, lived 
on what they could catch ; they had no 
government, and were merciless to everyone 
not of their own small tribe- . * * For my 
own part I would as soon be descended from 
that heroic little monkey who braved his 

dread^^gasrTW-D^^WJ.^^ ** M* of 



his keeper, . . , as from a savage who 
delights to torture his enemies, offers up 
bloody sacrifices j practises infanticide with- 
out remorse, treats his wives like slaves, 
knows no decency, and is haunted by the 
grossest superstitions," 

The famous aeronauts, Glaisher and Cox- 
well, undertook their thrilling adventures in 
the air at the request of the British Associa- 
tion, and the expedition of H«M,S. Challenger 
was also born under the same roof An in- 
teresting result of this deep-sea exploration 

the tedium of long winter evenings unre- 
lieved by adequate illumination. At pre- 
sent we have no experience of a house-to- 
house system of illumination on a great scale 
and in competition with cheap gas \ but 
preparations are already far advanced for 
trial on an adequate scale in London." 
Referring to the adventurous spirit of the 
Association in crossing the Atlantic to hold 
their meeting, he said: *'It is no ordinary 
meeting of the British Association which I 
have now the honour of addressing. For 




has been to show that the depths of the 
ocean are no mere barren solitudes, as was 
until recent years confidently believed, but, 
on the contrary, present us many remarkable 
forms of life. We have, however, as yet but 
thrown here and there a ray of light down 
into the ocean abysses. 

Nor can so short a time sufficient lie 

To fa l horn the vast depths of Nature's sea* 

Our Parliament of Science has been from 
the first, and still is, imbued with the spirit 
of prophecy. Lord Rayleigh, as President 
when the Association met at Montreal in 
1884, said : " Looking forward to the future 
of electric lighting we have good ground for 
encouragement. Already the lighting of 
large passenger ships is an assured success, 
and one which will be highly appreciated 
by those travellers who have experienced 

more than fifty years the Association has 
held its autumn gathering in various towns 
of the United Kingdom, and within those 
limits there is, I suppose, no place of im- 
portance which we have not visited. And 
now, not satisfied with past successes, we are 
seeking new worlds to conquer." 

Coming nearer still to our own day we 
find Sir William Crookes in his Presidential 
address at Bristol looking ahead to the 
time when food will not be obtainable 
at any price by dwellers in these islands with- 
out the artificial assistance of the chemist 
The controversy raised by this remarkable 
speech obliged Sir William to write a book, 
" The Wheat Problem," in his own defence, 
in which he says: "I stated that/ under 
present conditional fefculfleedless culture, a 
scarcity EffHW ^ftifcHlG»eci 3 b|e dis- 



tance ; that wheat-growing land all over the 
world is becoming exhausted, and that at 
some future time — in my opinion not far 
distant — no available wheat land will be left. 
But I also pointed out that Nature's resources, 
properly utilized! are ample* I urged that, 
instead of being satisfied with an average 
world -yield of 127 bushels an acre, a 
moderate dressing of chemical manure would 
pull up the average to 20 bushels — thus 
postponing the day of dearth to so distant a 
period that we and our sons and grandsons 
may legitimately live without undue solicitude 
for the future. It was far from my intention 
to create a sensation, 
or to indulge in a 
'cosmic scare,' After 
considerable study I 
placed before the 
public hard and for- 
midable facts, I have 
been assailed with 
criticism — unfavour- 
able, abusive, sug- 
gestive — but, having 
pondered disputed 
points, I cannot in 
any material degree 
modify my estimates 
of the future produc- 
ing capacity of the 
wheat fields of the 
globe. ... I have 
no wish to be gloomy, 
and certainly no wish 
to consider myself 
infallible, If at the 
end of another 
generation of waste- 
ful culture my forecast 

is invalidated by the unforeseen, I cheerfully 
invite friends and critics to stone me as a 
false prophet" 

The meeting at Dover, September 13, 1899, 
is memorable because it was the occasion 
of meeting on both sides of the Channel of 
the French and English Associations, The 
meeting of the French on this side at Dover and 
their reception of our Association at Boulogne 
are things to be remembered always by 
those who were privileged to be present on 
both occasions, when a real Continental 
embrace took place and Sir Michael Foster 
kissed the French President on both cheeks. 

The meeting to be held at Glasgow a few 
days hence is likely to be one of the most 
interesting on record, and, combined with 
the additional attraction of the great exhibi- 
tion : unusual numbers will weiid their way 



Pmm a Photo, by Gtorp* JVeuiu-*, Limit*!. 

northwards in search of health, pleasure, and 
information* The attendance at Newcastle 
in 1863 numbered 3,335 ; at York, in 1881 
(the jubilee year of the Association) > 2,533 ? 
and at Manchester in 1887, 3,838. These 
numbers will probably be far exceeded this 
year. The President - elect is Professor 
Arthur William Rucker, late of the Royal 
College of Science, South Kensington, and 
now President of the London University, a 
gentleman who has won great distinction 
in the domain of mathematical and physical 
science. Visitors are assisted by an index 
in the reception-room to inform the passer- 
by what paper in each 
section is at the time 
in course of reading 
or discussion. Tele- 
phonic com munica- 
tion also is established 
between the several 
sections and the re- 
ception-room for the 
convenience of mem- 
bers. Sometimes the 
proceedings are en- 
livened by warm con- 
troversy, and pas- 
sages of arms be- 
tween intellectual 
giants are now and 
then afforded to the 
great joy and admira- 
tion of the pigmies. 
There will be abun- 
dant hospitality for 
those who are lucky 
enough to find 
it: receptions, 
dinners^ smoking 
concerts, excursions to places of interest 
in the neighbourhood, popular lectures for 
visitors, reinforced hy a large contingent of 
residents in the place— residents who would 
probably not go any long distance to attend, but 
among whom a fruitful spirit of inquiry is often 
awakened by the circumstances in which the 
objects, methods, and advantages of science 
are brought home to their doors. The more 
abstruse papers and addresses which furnish 
the natural food of some of the sections are 
pleasantly lightened ; in others, by histories 
of the adventures and observations of great 
travellers, or by dissertations which are not 
without bearing upon moot points of con- 
temporary politics. Other forms of enter- 
tainment are provided for those — and they 
are many — who regard the annual British 

At Szmwich Port, 

By W, W. Jacobs. 

R. NUGENTS return caused 
a sensation in several quarters, 
the feeling at Equator Lodge 
bordering close upon open 
mutiny. Even Mrs* Kingdom 
plucked up spirit and read the 
astonished captain a homily upon the first 
duties of a parent — a homily which she 
backed up by reading the story of the 
Prodigal Son through to the bitter end. At 
the conclusion she broke down entirely and 
was led up to bed by Kate and Bella, the 
sympathy of the latter taking an acute form, 
and consisting mainly of innuendoes which 
could only refer to one person in the house. 

Kate Nugent, who was not prone to tears, 
took a different line, but 
with no better success. 
The captain declined to 
discuss the sub- 
ject, and, after 
listening to a 
description of 
himself in which 
Nero and other 
celebrities fig- 
ured for the pur- 
pose of having 
their characters 
wh i tewashed, 
took up his hat 
and went out. 

Jem Hardy 
heard of the new 
arrival from his 
partner, and, 
ignoring that 
urgent advice to 
make hay while 
the sun shone and take Master Nugent for a 
walk forthwith, sat thoughtfully considering 
how to turn the affair to the best advantage- 
A slight outbreak of diphtheria at Fullalove 
Alley had, for a time, closed that thorough- 
fare to Miss Nugent, and he was inclined to 
regard the opportune arrival of her brother 
as an effort of Providence on his behalf. 

For some days, however, he looked for 
Jack Nugent in vain, that gentleman either 
being out of doors engaged in an earnest 
search for work, or snugly seated in the 
back parlour of the Ky birds, indulging in the 

Copyright 1901, by W. W. Jacobs 

somewhat perilous pastime of paying com- 
pliments to Amelia Kybird* Remittances 
which had reached him from his sister and 
aunt had been promptly returned, and he 
was indebted to the amiable Mr. Kybird for 
the bare necessaries of life. In these 
circumstances a warm feeling of gratitude 
towards the family closed his eyes to their 
obvious shortcomings, 

He even obtained work down at the 
harbour through a friend of Mr. Ky bird's. 
It was not of a very exalted nature, and 
caused more strain upon the back than the 


intellect, but seven years of roughing it had 
left him singularly free from caste prejudices, 
a freedom which he soon discovered was not 
shared by his old acquaintances at Sunwich. 
The discovery made him somewhat bitter, 
and when Hardy stopped him one afternoon 
as he was on his way home from work he 
tried to ignore his outstretched hand and 
continued on his way. 

"It is a long time since we met/* said 
Hardy, placing himself in front of him. 

"Good heavens/' said lack, regarding him 



and span like the industrious little boys in the 
school-books, I heard you were back here." 

*' I came back just before you did," said 

"Brass band playing you in and all that 
sort of thing, I suppose/' said the other. 
14 Alas, how the wicked prosper— and you 
were wicked. Do you remember how you 
used to knock me about ? " 

"Come round to my place and have a 
chat," said Hardy. 

Jack shook his head "They're expecting 
roe in to tea," he said, with a nod in the direc- 
tion of Mr. Ky bird's, "and honest waterside 
labourers who earn 
their bread by the 
sweat of their brow 
—when the foreman 
is looking — do not 
frequent the society 
of the upper 

tl Don't be a fool," 
said Hardy, politely. 

"Well, I'm not 
very tidy," retorted 
Mr. Nugent, glanc- 
ing at his clothes. 
11 I don't mind it 
myself; I'm a philo- 
sopher, and nothing 
hurts me so long as 
I have enough to 
eat and drink ; but 
] don't inflict myself 
on my friends, and 
I must say most of 
them meet me more 
than half-way." 

" Imagination,' 1 
said Hardy. 

"AH except Kate 
and my aunt/* said 
Jack, firmly. M Poor 
Kate ; I tried to 
cut her the other 

11 Cut her ? " echoed Hardy. 

Nugent nodded. "To save her feelings," 
he replied; "but she wouldn't be cut, bless 
her, and on the distinct undemanding that 
it wasn't to form a precedent, I let her kiss 
me behind a waggon. Do you know, I fancy 
she's grown up rather good-looking, Jem?" 

"You are observant," s:iid Mr, Hardy, 

11 Of course, it may be my partiality," said 
Mr. Nugent with judicial fairness. u I was 
always a bit fond of Kate. I don't suppose 

Vol. Kxii.— 34, 

Digitized by LiGOgle 

anybody else would see anything in her. 
Where are you living now?" 

"Fort Road," said Hardy; "come round 
any evening you can, if you won't come 
now + " 

Nugent promised, and, catching sight of 
Miss Kybird standing in the doorway of the 
shop, bade him good-bye and crossed the 
road. It was becoming quite a regular thin^ 
for her to wait and have her tea with him 
now, an arrangement which was provocative 
of many sly remarks on the part of 
Mrs. Kybird. 

"Thought you were never coming," said 
Miss Kybird, tartly, 
as she led the way 
to the back room 
and took her seat 
at the untidy tea- 

" And you Ve been 
crying your eyes out, 
I suppose," remarked 
Mr. Nugent, as he 
groped in the depths 
of a tall jar for black- 
currant jam. " Well, 
you're not the first, 
and I don't suppose 
you'll be the last. 
How's Teddy?" 

"(let your tea," 
retorted Miss Ky- 
bird, "and don't 
make that scraping 
noise on the bottom 
of the jar with your 
knife. It puts my 
teeth on edge." 

"So it does mine," 
said Mr. Nugent, 
" but there's a black 
currant down there, 
and I mean to have 
it. ■ Waste not, want 
not. 5 w 

11 Make him put 
that knife down," said Miss Kybird, as her 
mother entered the room. 

Mrs. Kybird shook her head at him. 
"You two are always quarrelling," she said, 
archly, "just like a couple of — couple 

of- " 

" Love-birds, ,? suggested Mr. Nugent 
Mrs. Kybird in great glee squeezed round 
to him and smote him playfully with her 
large, fat hand, and then, being somewhat 
out of breath with the exertion, sat down to 
enjoy the jest in comfort 





" That's how you encourage him," said her 
daughter ; " no wonder he doesn't behave. 
No wonder he acts as if the whole place 
belongs to him." 

The remark was certainly descriptive of 
Mr. Nugent's behaviour. His easy assurance 
and affability had already made him a prime 
favourite with Mrs. Kybird, and had not 
been without its effect upon her daughter. 
The constrained and severe company manners 
of Mr. Edward Silk showed up but poorly 
beside those of the paying guest, and Miss 
Kybird had on several occasions drawn 
comparisons which would have rendered 
both gentlemen uneasy if they had known 
of them. 

Mr. Nugent carried the same easy good- 
fellowship with him the following week when, 
neatly attired in a second-hand suit from Mr. 
Kybird's extensive stock, he paid a visit to 
Jem Hardy to talk over old times and discuss 
the future. 

" You ought to make friends with your 
father," said the latter ; " it only wants a little 
common sense and mutual forbearance." 

"That's all," said Nugent; "sounds easy 
enough, doesn't it ? No, all he wants is for 
me to clear out of Sunwich, and I'm not 
going to — unfil it pleases me, at any rate. 
It's poison to dim for me to be living at the 
Kybirds' and pushing a trolley down on the 
quay. Talk about love sweetening toil, that 

Hardy changed the subject, and Nugent, 
nothing loth, discoursed on his wanderings 
and took him on a personally conducted 
tour through the continent of Australia. 
" And I've come back to lay my bones in 
Sunwich Churchyard," he concluded, patheti- 
cally ; "that is, when I've done with 'em." 

"A lot of things'll happen before then," 
said Hardy. 

" I hope so," rejoined Mr. Nugent, piously; 
" my desire is to be buried by my weeping 
great-grandchildren. In fact, I've left in- 
structions to that effect in my will — all I have 
left, by the way." 

" You're not going to keep on at this water- 
side work, I suppose?" said Hardy, making 
another effort to give the conversation a 
serious turn. 

" The foreman doesn't think so," replied 
the other, as he helped himself to some 
whisky ; "he has made several remarks to 
that effect lately." 

He leaned back in his chair and smoked 
thoughtfully, by no means insensible to the 
comfort of his surroundings. He had not 
been in such comfortable quarters since he 

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left home seven years before. He thought 
of the untidy litter of the Kybirds' back 
parlour, with the forlorn view of the yard 
in the rear. Something of his reflections he 
confided to Hardy as he rose to leave. 

" But my market value is about a pound a 
week," he concluded, ruefully, "so I must 
cut my coat to suit my cloth. Good-night." 

He walked home somewhat soberly at 
first, but the air was cool and fresh and a 
glorious moon was riding in the sky. He 
whistled cheerfully, and his spirits rose as 
various chimerical plans of making money 
occurred to him. By the time he reached 
the High Street, the shops of which were all 
closed for the night, he was earning five 
hundred a year and spending a thousand. 
He turned the handle of the door and, 
walking in, discovered Miss Kybird entertain- 
ing company in the person of Mr. Edward 

" Halloa," he said, airily, as he took a seat. 
" Don't mind me, young people. Go on just 
as you would if I were not here." 

Mr. Edward Silk grumbled something 
under his breath ; Miss Kybird, turning to 
the intruder with a smile of welcome, re- 
marked that she had just thought of going 
to sleep. 

"Going to sleep?" repeated Mr. Silk, 

" Yes," said Miss Kybird, yawning. 

Mr. Silk gazed at her, open-mouthed. 
" What, with me 'ere ? " he inquired, in 
trembling tones. 

" YouVe not very lively company," said 
Miss Kybird, bending over her sewing. " I 
don't think you've spoken a word for the last 
quarter of an hour, and before that you were 
talking of death -warnings. Made my flesh 
creep, you did." 

" Shame ! " said Mr. Nugent. 

"You didn't say anything to me about 
your flesh creeping," muttered Mr. Silk. 

" You ought to have seen it creep," inter- 
posed Mr. Nugent, severely. 

" I'm not talking to you," said Mr. Silk, 
turning on him ; " when I want the favour of 
remarks from you I'll let you know." 

" Don't you talk to my gentlemen friends 
like that, Teddy," said Miss Kybird, sharply, 
" because I won't have it. Why don't you 
try and be bright and cheerful like Mr. 
Nugent ? " 

Mr. Silk turned and regarded that gentle- 
man steadfastly ; Mr. Nugent meeting his 
gaze with a pleasant smile and a low-voiced 
offer to give him lessons at half a crown an 

Original from 



"I wouldn*t be like r im for worlds,' 1 said 
Mr. Silk, with a scornful laugh. " I'd sooner 
be like anybody." 

41 What have you been saying to him?" 
inquired Nugent 

"Nothing/ 5 replied Miss Kybird ; "he's 
often like that. He's got a nasty, miserable, 
jealous disposition* Not that I mind what 
he thinks. 11 

Mr. Silk breathed hard and looked from 
one to the other. 

" Perhaps he'll grow out of it t " said 
Nugent, hopefully. " Cheer up, Teddy. 
You're young yet." 

" Might I arsk," said the solemnly enraged 
Mr. Silk, " might I arsk you not to be so 
free with my Christian name ? " 

" He doesn't like his name now," said 
Nugent, drawing his chair closer to Miss 
Kybird's, "and I don't wonder at it What 
shall we call him ? Job ? What's that work 
you're doing? Why don't you get on with 
that fancy waist- 
coat you are 
doing for me ? " 

Before Miss 
Kybird could 
deny all know- 
ledge of the 
article in ques- 
tion her sorely - 
tried swain 
created a diver- 
sion fay rising. 
To that simple 
act he imparted 
an emphasis 
which com- 
manded the 
attention of both 
beholders, and, 
drawing over to 
Miss Kybird, he 
stood over her in 
an attitude at 
once terrifying 
and reproachful 

"Take your 
choice, Amelia," 
he said, in a thrilling voice, 
which is it to be ? " 

" Here, steady, old man," cried the startled 
Nugent. " (Jo easy," 

" Me or ? tm ? " repeated Mr, Silk, in stern 
but broken accents. 

Miss Kybird giggled and, avoiding his 
gaze, looked pensively at the faded hearthrug* 

" You're making her blush/' said Mr. 
Nugent, sternly. "Sit down, Teddy; I'm 

ashamed of you. We're both ashamed of 
you. You're confusing us dreadfully pro- 
posing to us both in this way/' 

Mr, Silk regarded him with a scornful eye, 
but Miss Kybird, bidding him not to be 
foolish, punctuated her remarks with the 
needle, and a struggle, which Mr, Silk 
regarded as unseemly in the highest degree, 
took place between them for its possession. 
Mr. Nugent secured it at last, and brandish- 
ing it fiercely extorted feminine screams from 
Miss Kybird by threatening her with it 
Nor was her mind relieved until Mr. Nugent, 
remarking that he would put it back in the pin- 
cushion, placed it in the leg of Mr, Edward Silk, 

Mr. Kybird and his wife, entering through 
the shop, were just in time to witness a 
spirited performance on the part of Mr. Silk, 
the cherished purpose of which was to 
deprive them of a lodger. He drew back as 
they entered and, raising his voice above 
Miss Ky bird's, began to explain his action. 

Me or 'im — 

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"Teddy, I'm ashamed of you," said Mr* 
Kybird, shaking his head. "A little joke 
like that ; a little innercent joke." 

"If it 'ad been a darning-needle now — — " 
began Mrs. Kybird. 

"All right," said the desperate Mr. Silk, 
11 'ave it your own way. Let 'Melia marry 
J im —I don't care — I give ? er up." 

"Teddy !" said Mr. Kybird, in a shocked 
voice. " Teddy ! " 

Original from 




Mr, Silk thrust him fiercely to one side 
and passed raging through the shop. The 
sound of articles falling in all directions 
attested to his blind haste, and the force with 
which he slammed the shop- door was suffi- 
cient evidence of his state of mind* 

"Well, upon my word/' said the staring 
Mr, Kybird ; * 4 oi all the outrageyous " 

''Never mind ? im," said his wife, who was 
sitting in the easy chair, distributing affection- 
ate smiles between her daughter and the 

startled Mr. Nugent 
Jack, that's all I arsk. 
She's been a good gal, 
and she'll make a good 
wife. I've seen how it 
was between you for 
some time," 

Kybird, He shook 
hands warmly with Mr. 
Nugent, and, [Kitting 
(hat perturbed man on 
the back, surveyed him 
with eyes glistening with 

M It's a bit rough on 
Teddy, isn't it ? y * in- 
quired Mr. Nugent, 
anxiously; '*be- 
sides " 

11 Don't you worry 
about 'im." said Mr. 
Kybirdj affectionately, 
" He ain't worth it" 

" I wasn't," said Mr 
Nugent, truthfully, The 
situation had developed 
so rapidly that it had 
caught him at a dis- 
advantage. He had a 
dim feeling that, having 
been the cause of Miss 
Ky bird's losing one 
young man, the most 
elementary notions of 
that he should furnish 

" Make 'er happy, 

" ? Arry Smith, you mean/* corrected Mr + 

" Tom Fletcher said something, I'm sure," 
persisted his wife- 

" He did" said Mr. Kybird, grimly, "and I 
pretty near broke 'is 'cad for it. 'Arry Smith 
is the one you're thinking of," 

Mrs. Kybird after a moment's reflection 
admitted that he was right, and, the chain of 
memory being touched, waxed discursive 
about her own wedding and the somewhat 
exciting details which accompanied it. After 
which she produced *i 
bottle labelled ** Port 
wine" from the cup 
board, and, filling four 
glasses, celebrated the 
occasion in a befitting 
but sober fashion. 

"This/ 5 said Mr. 
Nugent, as he sat on 
his bed that night to 
take his hoots off, " this 
is what comes of trying 
to make everybody 
happy and comfortable 
with a little fun. I won- 
der what the governor 
'11 say." 


chivalry demanded 
her with another, 
And this idea was clearly uppermost in the 
minds of her parents. He looked over at 
Amelia and with characteristic philosophy 
accepted the [>osition. 

14 U'e shall be the handsomest couple in 
Sunwich," he said, simply. 

14 Bar none," said Mr. Kybird, emphatically. 

The stout lady in the chair gazed at the 
couple fondly. l * It reminds me of our 
wedding/' she said, softly. " What was it 
Tom Fletcher said, father? Can you re- 
member ? " 

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The news of his only 
son's engagement took 
Captain Nugent's 
breath away, which, all 
things considered, was 
perhaps the best thing 
it could have done. 
He sat at home in 
silent rage, only explo- 
ding when the well- 
meaning Mrs. King- 
dom sought to minimize 
his troubles by com- 
paring them with those 
of Job. Her reminder that to the best of 
her remembrance he had never had a boil 
in his life put the finishing touch to his 
patience, and, despairing of drawing-room 
synonyms for the words which trembled on 
his lips, he beat a precipitate retreat to the 

His son bore his new honours bravely* To 
an appealing and indignant letter from his 
sister he wrote gravely, reminding her of the 
difference in their years, and also that he had 
never interfered in her flirtations, however 
sorely his brotherly heart might have been 
wrung by them. He urged her to forsake 

Original from 



such diversions for the future, and to look 
for an alliance with some noble, open-handed 
man with a large banking account and a 
fondness for his wife's relatives. 

To Jem Hardy, who ventured on a 
delicate remonstrance one evening, he was 
less patient, and displayed a newly-acquired 
dignity which was a source of considerable 
embarrassment to that well-meaning gentle- 
man. He even got up to search for his hat, 
and was only induced to resume his seat by 
the physical exertions of his host. 

14 I didn't mean to be offensive," said the 

45 But you were," said the aggrieved man. 

Hardy apologized. 

44 Talk of that kind is a slight to my 
future wife," said Nugent, firmly. 44 Besides, 
what business is it of yours ? " 

Hardy regarded him thoughtfully. It was 
some time since he had seen Miss Nugent, 
and he felt that he was losing valuable time. 
He had hoped great things from the advent 
of her brother, and now his intimacy seemed 
worse than useless. He resolved to take him 
into his confidence. 

44 1 spoke from selfish motives," he said, at 
last. 44 1 wanted you to make friends with 
your father again." 

44 What for ? ,: inquired the other, staring. 

44 To pave the way for me," said Hardy, 
raising his voice as he thought of his 
wrongs ; 44 and now, owing to your con- 
founded matrimonial business, that's all 
knocked on the head. I wouldn't care 
whom you married if it didn't interfere with 
my affairs so." 

44 Do you mean," inquired the astonished 
Mr. Nugent, 44 that you want to be on friendly 
terms with my father ? " 

44 Yes." 

Mr. Nugent gazed at him round -eyed. 
"You haven't had a blow on the head or 
anything of that sort at any time, have you?" 
he inquired. 

Hardy shook his head impatiently. * 4 You 
don't seem to suffer from an excess of in- 
tellect yourself," he retorted. 44 1 don't want 
to be offensive again, still, I should think it 
is pretty plain there is only one reason why 
I should go out of my way to seek the society 
of your father." 

44 Say what you like about my intellect," 
replied the dutiful son, 44 but I can't think 
of even one — not even a smaii one. Not — 
Good gracious ! You don't mean — you can't 
mean " 

Hardy looked at him. 

"Not that," said Mr. Nugent, whose 

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intellect had suddenly become painfully 
acute — " not her?" 

44 Why not ? " inquired the other. 

Mr. Nugent leaned back in his chair and 
regarded him with an air of kindly interest 
44 Well, there's no need for you to worry 
about my father for that," he said ; 44 he would 
raise no objection." 

44 Eh f " said Hardy, starting up from his 

44 He would welcome it," said Mr. Nugent, 
positively. 44 There is nothing that he would 
like better ; and I don't mind telling you a 
secret— she likes you." 

Hardy reddened. 44 How do you know ? " 
he stammered. 

44 I know it for a fact," said the other, im- 
pressively. " I have heard her say so. But 
you've been very plain-spoken about me, 
Jem, so that I shall say what 1 think." 

44 l)o," said his bewildered friend. 

44 1 think you'd be throwing yourself away," 
said Nugent ; 44 to my mind it's a most un- 
suitable match in every way. She's got no 
money, no looks, no style. Nothing but a 
good kind heart rather the worse for wear. 
I suppose you know she's been married 
once ? " 

44 What .'" shouted the other. "Married?" 

Mr. Nugent nodded. His face was per- 
fectly grave, but the joke was beginning to 
prey upon his vitals in a manner which 
brooked no delay. 

14 I thought everybody knew it," he said. 
44 We have never disguised the fact Her 
husband died twenty years ago last " 

44 Twenty " said his suddenly en- 
lightened listener. 44 Who ?— What ? " 

Mr. Nugent, incapable of reply, put his 
head on the table and beat the air frantically 
with his hand, while gasping sobs rent his 
tortured frame. 

44 Dear — aunt," he choked, 44 how pleas — * 
pleased she'd be if — she knew. Don't look 
like that, Hardy. You'll kill me." 

44 You seem amused," said Hardy, between 
his teeth. 

" And you'll be Kate's uncle," said Mr. 
Nugent, sitting up and wiping his eyes. 
44 Poor little Kate." 

He put his head on the table again. 
44 And mine," he wailed. 44 Uncle Jemmy / 
will you tip us half-crowns, nunky ? " 

Mr. Hardy's expression of lofty scorn only 
served to retard his recovery, but he sat up 
at last and, giving his eyes a final wipe, 
beamed kindly upon his victim. 

44 Well, I'll do what I can for you," he 
observed, 44 but I suppose you know Kate's 

Original from 



off for a three months' visit to London to- 
morrow ? " 

The other observed that he didn't know 
it, and, taught by his recent experience, eyed 
him suspiciously. 

** It's quite true/' said Nugent; "she's 
going to stay with some relatives of ours. 
She used to be very fond of one of the boys 
— her cousin Herbert — so you mustn't be 
"surprised if she comes back engaged. But 
I daresay you'll have forgotten all about her 
in three months* And, any way, I don't 
suppose she'd look at you if you were the 
last man in the world. If you'll walk part of 
the way home with me 111 regale you with 
anecdotes of her childhood which will 
probably cause you to change your views 

In Fullalove Alley Mr. Edward Silk, his 
forebodings fulfil led, received the news of 
Amelia Ky bird's faithlessness in a spirit of 
quiet despair, and turned a deaf ear to the 
voluble sympathy of his neighbours* Similar 
things had happened to young men living 
there before, but their behaviour had been 
widely different to Mr. Silk's. Bob Crump, 
for instance, had been jilted on the very 
morning he had arranged for his wedding, but 
instead of going about in a state of gentle 
melancholy he went round and fought his 
beloved's father — merely because it was her 
father — and wound up an exciting day by 
selling off his household gods to the highest 


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bidders* Henry Jones in similar circum- 
stances relieved his great grief by walking up 
and down the alley smashing every window 
within reach of his stick. 

Hut these were men of spirit ; Mr. Silk was 
cast in a different mould, and his fair neigh- 
bours sympathized heartily with him in his 
bereavement, while utterly failing to under- 
stand any man breaking his heart over Amelia 

His mother, a widow of uncertain age, 
shook her head over him and hinted darkly 
at consumption, an idea which was very 
pleasing to her son, and gave him an 
increased interest in a slight cold from which 
he was suffering. 

"He wants taking out of 'imself, 15 said 
Mr. Wilks, who had stepped across the alley 
to discuss the subject with his neighbour ; 
" cheerful society and 'obbies — that's what 
'e wants." 

"He's got a faithful J eart,' ? sighed Mrs, 
SilL " It's in the family ; 'e can't 'elp it." 

11 But 3 e might be lifted out of it," urged 
Mr. Wilks. " I T ad several disappointments 
in my young days. One time I ? ad a fresh 
gal every v'y'ge a f most." 

Mrs. Silk sniffed and looked up the alley T 
whereat two neighbours who happened to be 
at their doors glanced up and down casually, 
and retreated inside to continue their vigil 
from the windows. 

"Silk courted me for fifteen years before I 
would say ' yes/ M she said, 

,c Fifteen years ! " re- 
sponded the other. He 
cast his eyes upwards and 
his Hps twitched. The 
most casual observer could 
have seen that he was en- 
gaged in calculations of an 
abstruse and elusive nature. 
" I was on T y seven when 
'e started," said Mrs. Silk, 

Mr. Wilks brought his 
eyes to a level again. " Oh, 
seven," he remarked. 

"And we was married 
two days before my nine- 
teenth birthday," added 
Mrs. Silk, whose own arith- 
metic had always been her 
weak point. 

u Just so," said Mr. 
Wilks. He glanced at 
the sharp white face and 
shapeless figure before him. 

Original from 



"It's hard to helieve you can T ave a son 
Teddy's age," he added, gallantly. 

" It makes you feel as if you're getting on," 
said the widow. 

The ex steward agreed, and after standing 
a minute or two in silence made a prelimi- 
nary motion of withdrawal. 

" Beautiful your plants are looking,'* said 
Mrs. Silk, glancing over at his window ; " I 
can't think what you do to J em," 

The gratified Mr. Wilks began to explain. 
It appeared that plants wanted almost as 
much looking after as daughters. 

" 1 should like to see 'em close/' said Mrs. 

"Come in and *ave a look at 
J em," responded her neighbour 

Mrs. Silk hesitated and dis- 
played a maidenly coyness far 
in excess of the needs 
of the situation. Then 
she steppe*! across, and 
five seconds later th 
two matrons, 
with consterna- 
tion writ large 
upon their faces, 
appeared at their 
doors again and, 
glances across 
the alley, met in 
the centre. 

They were 
more surprised 
an evening or two 
later to see Mr 
Wilks leave his 
house to pay a 
return visit, 
bearing in his 
hand a small bunch of his cherished blooms. 
That they were blooms which would have 
paid the debt of Nature in a few hours at 
most in no way detracted from the widow's 
expressions of pleasure at receiving them, and 
Mr. Wilks, who had been invited over to 
cheer up Mr. Silk, who was in a particularly 
black mood, sat and smiled like a detected 
philanthropist as she placed them in water. 

"Good evening Teddy," he said, breezily, 
with a side glance at his hostess. MY hat a 
lovely day we've *ad." 

u So bright, " said Mrs, Silk, nodding with 

Mr, Wilks sat down and gave vent to such 
a cheerful lauuh that the ornaments on the 


mantelpiece shook with it. 
alive," he declared, 

kk It's good to be 

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" Ah, you enjoy your life, Mr* Hi Iks," said 
the widow. 

" Enjoy it ! " roared Mr. Wilks ; "enjoy it ! 
Why shouldn't I ? Why shouldn't everybody 
enjoy their lives? It was what they was 
given to us for/' 

11 So they was/' affirmed Mrs. Silk; "no- 
body can deny that ; not if they try." 

"Nobody wants to deny it, ma'am," re- 
torted Mr. Wilks, in the high voice he kept 
for cheering up purposes. I4 1 enjoy every 
day o 1 my life.' f 

lie filled his pipe, chuckling serenely, and 
having lit it sat and enjoyed that. Mrs, Silk 
retired for a space, and returning with 
a jug of ale poured him out a glass and 
set it by his el how, 
" Here's your 
good J e a 1 1 h , 
ma am," said Mr. 
Wilks, raising it. 
k * Here's yours, 
Teddy— a long life 
and a 'appy one/ 1 
Mr Silk turned 
listlessly. i( I don't 
want a long life," 
he remarked. 

His mother and 
her visitor ex- 
changed glances. 
"That's J ow 1 e goes 
on," remarked the 
former, in an audi- 
ble whisper- Mr. 
Wilks nodded, re- 
" 1 ? ad them ideas once," 
he said, ,l hut they go off. If 
you could only live to see 
Teddy at the age o' ninety- 
five, e wouldn't want to go then. T/d say it 
was crool hard, being cut off in the flower of 
? is youth,' 3 

Mrs. Silk laughed gaily and Mr, Wilks 
bellowed a gruff accompaniment, Mr. 
Edward Silk eyed them pityingly, 

4t That's the 'ardship of it," he said, slowly, 
as he looked round from his seat by the fire- 
place ; "that's where the 'ollowness of things 
comes in. That's where 1 envy Mr Wilks." 

"Envy me?" said the smiling visitor; 
"what for?" 

" Because you're so near the grave," said 
Mr, Silk. 

Mr, Wilks, who was taking another draught 
of beer, put the glass down atid eyed him 

11 That's why 1 envy you," continued the 

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2 7 2 


other. " I don't want to live, and you do, 
and yet I dessay I shall be walking about 
forty and fifty years after you're dead and 

"Wot d'ye mean — near the grave?" in- 
quired Mr, Wilks, somewhat shortly. 

4i I was referring to your age," replied the 
other ; " it's strange to see *ow the aged ? ang 
on to life. You can't 'ave much pleasure at 
your time o J life. And you're alt alone ; the 
last withered branch left," 

u Withered branch ! n began Mr. Wilks; 
*' 'ere, look 'ere, Teddy " 

"All the others 'ave gone," pursued Mr, 
Silk, "and they're beckoning to you," 

" Let 'em beckon," said Mr. Wilks, coldly* 
" I'm not going yet." 

" You're not young," said Mr, Silk, gazing 
meditatively at the grate, "and I envy you 
that. It can only be a matter of a year or 
two at most before you are sleeping your last 
long sleep." 

"Teddy! "protested Mrs, Silk. 

"It's true, mother," said the 
melancholy youth. " Mr. Wilks 
is old. Why should 'e 
mind being told of it? 
If J e had 'ad the trouble 
I've 'ad Vd be glad to 
go. Hut he'll ave to 
go, whether 'e likes it 
or not. It might be to- 
night. Who can tell?" 

Mr. Wilks, unasked, 
poured himself out 
another glass of ale, 
and drank it off with 
the air of a man who 
intended to make sure 
of that. It seemed a 
trifle more flat than the 

"So many men o 1 your age and there- 
abouts," continued Mr. Silk, "think that 
they're going to live on to eighty or ninety, 
but there's very few of 'em do, It's only a 
short while, Mr. Wilks, and the little child- 
ren "11 be running about over your grave and 
picking daisies off of it." 

"Ho, will they?" said the irritated Mr, 
Wilks; "they'd better not let me catch 'em 
at it, that's alL" 

"He's always talking like that now," said 
Mrs, Silk, not without a certain pride in her 
tones ; " that's why I asked you in to cheer 
J im up," 

" All your troubles'll be over then," con- 
tinued the warning voice, " and in a month 
or two even your name* 11 be forgotten. That's 
the way of the world. Think 'ow soon the 
last five years of your life 'ave passed ; the 
next fivell pass ten times as fast even if you 
live as long, which ain't likely," 

" He talks like a clergyman, 11 said Mrs, 
Silk, in a stage whisper, 

Mr, Wilks nodded, and despite his hostess's 
protests rose to go* He shook hands with 
her and, after a short but sharp inward 
struggle, shook hands with her son. It was 
late in the evening as he left, but the houses 
bad not yet been lit up, Dim figures sat indoor- 
ways or stood about the alley, and there was 
an air of peace and rest strangely and un- 
comfortably in keeping with the conversation 
to which he had just been listening. He 
looked in at his own door ; the furniture 
seemed stiffer than usual and the tick of the 
clock more deliberate. He closed the door 
again and, taking a deep breath, set off 

towards the life 
and bustle of the 
Two Schooners. 


(To be continued.) 


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Original from 



Hands Round the Coast 

By Alfred T. Story, 

Illustrations from Photographs by IV, Gregory £r* Co, 

^^ *^^^ 

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jig 1 - ' ^«^. 

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XYONE who has boon much 
ii bout our coasts cannot but 
have noticed the coastguard 
stations dotting them here and 
there like sentinels. North or 
south, cast or west, almost 
wherever we touch the sea, at no great 
distance away there will be seen a little 
cluster of houses, a watch tower, maybe, or 
look-out, and a flagstaff denoting a station 
of the coastguard. Generally, too, there 
*v ill he a boat-house, with a stout pinnace 
or yawl, ready for any work that may be 
necessary, whether it he rescue or salvage. 
In some cases, as, for instance, when the 
station is on the top of a high cliff, as at 
Fairlight, near Hastings, boats would be of 
no use, for the simple reason that they could 
not be got down to the water. However, 
such stations may be signalling stations only. 
Fairlight itself is a war signalling station, 
and used to belong to the War Department 
Dungeness likewise is a war signalling station, 
Both these are provided with the semaphore 
telegraph for signalling vessels at sea. 

A coastguard station is usually composed 
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of from six to eight men, although smaller or 
sub-stations may number but three ; while 
there are stations counting a dozen or more 
men. The new station which is being built 
on the famous Pett I^vel, near Winchelsea, 
will have to accommodate seventeen men, all 
told. The sub-stations are generally attached 
to the larger ones, and are in charge of the 
officer who has command of that post, 

Stations are grouped into divisions,' which 
are under the charge of inspecting officers, 
generally commanders or lieutenants, who 
visit them periodically lo see that everything 
is in order and that discipline is duly 
attended to, For at these stations drill and 
other duties have to be carried on as regularly 
as on board ship. To each coastguard 
division a cruiser is attached. It is usually 
cruising with only half its full complement of 
men ; the other half are distributed amongst 
the stations comprised in the division, and 
if the need should arise for extra men- they 
are at once drafted from the stations. 

The coastguard is, of course, recruited 
exclusively from the Navy and the Naval 
Reserve, and every man connected with the 

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force is liable to be called up at any 

During these critical times each member 
of tbe coastguard has his ship and his place 
on that ship, and at a word from the 
Admiralty — it might be " mobilize " — up 
would go his kit on to his shoulder, and away 
he would tramp to the nearest railway station 
and so en route to the depot whfcre his ship 
lay* It is said that every man in the coast- 
guard — and they number between 4,000 and 
5,000 in all — could be on board his ship 
within twenty-four hours, though his station 
were at John o' 
CJr oat's, while the 
majority could be at 
their posts within 
half that time. 

Said one of these 
men recently : (1 1 
not only know my 
ship, but I know 
my post in the ship, 
the number of my 
mess, and every- 
thing ; and if the 
word were to come 
for me to start now, 
I could be in my 
place within six 

A eoastguardsman 
is liable to be called 
upon for sea service 
at any time, and if 
of good character, 
and he has done 
nine years' service, 
he is always eligible 
for the coastguard 
when not on active 
duty on board ship- 
When a vessel is 
paid off all those 
who are willing to 
join the coastguard 

are asked to set down their names. These 
are sent up to the proper quarters, and in 
the course of a month or two, possibly in as 
many weeks, he receives an appointment, 
it may be to a station a few miles away, 
it may be to one "at the top o ? the map," 
as one man put it, meaning some place 
Orkney or Shetland way. 

" But of all places under the sun, 1 ' said 
this individual, "save me from a station on 
the Thames. I spent two years at one not 
far from Gravesend, and the Lord preserve 
me from the like again. I VI rather be on a 


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torpedo-boat destroyer. Half the year you 
can't lie still in your bed for the fog-horns. 
You perhaps just get your head on the pillow, 
when away one goes and you have to jump 
up and rush to the rescue. It's two iron 
colliers, or maybe a collier and a barge, in 
collision, not unlikely something worse ; and 
possibly before you can get on to the spot 
one of the two, if not both, has gone into the 
cellar. The cellar's where you get your big 
drink maybe your last oue, Jt explained the 
man with an odd attempt at pathos, w IVe 
known nights when I've had to turn out of 

bed three times for 
one of them col- 
lisions, At other 
places/' he added, 
" you can't get a 
collision for love or 

The business of 
the coastguard is, of 
course, the protec- 
tion of our shores ; 
but in these " piping 
times " for the Navy- 
it resolves itself into 
the protection of 
life and property. 
Formerly the coast- 
guard was called 
upon to do a good 
deal by way of pre- 
venting smuggling ; 
but there is now 
little of that, and 
that little, on the 
whole, of small eon- 
seq u ence, although 
occasionally one 
hears of an indi- 
vidual more daring 
than the rest, or it 
may be a knot of 
individuals, being 
dropped upon when 
they thought they were doing a fairly safe 

Not long since a shrewd coastguardsman 
stationed on the Thames overhauled the 
stewardess of a steamboat making trips to a 
Continental port, and found that her petti- 
coats were lined with packets— known as 
h]ue-books — of tobacco. It was discovered 
that she had been engaged in this trade for 
years, and that her rendezvous in London 
was in a house in which, strange!^ enough, 
the captain of a revenue cutter lodged when 
If] town, 

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That, however, was a very tame affair in 
comparison with a capture which took place 
on the Clyde some few years ago, and that 
caused not a lit tit talk at the time,, it read so 
much like a page from the exploits of Dirk 

The coastguard stationed at Go u rock on 
the Clyde had for some time suspected that 
extensive tobacco smuggling operations were 
being carried on in the neighbourhood. It 
was believed that the tobacco, after being 
manufactured abroad into i( sticks," was care- 
fully packed into tin cases which, when hi led, 
weighed from 2o1b. to 8olb. each. These 
cases were hermetically sealed and placed on 
board a steamer bound for the Clyde. 
Attached to each case was a lengthened 
cord, and at the farther end was affixed a 
small cork float On the steamer's arrival in 

coastguard's duty to watch all steamers, and 
see who comes and goes ; and on this event- 
ful night it was known that some suspected 
persons had arrived by an incoming steamer. 
Accordingly, an extra Hose watch was kept 
on the coast. Very late a boat was seen to 
put off to the " fishing-ground fJ near Cloch, 
when a patrol party was at once mustered 
and set to observe their movements, A little 
before midnight the boat's crew was noticed 
rowing cautiously towards the shore, where 
a cab was seen to be in waiting, and, as there 
was no sign of any coastguard officer being 
about, the eases were speedily transferred 
from the boat to the cab. 

Two of the men got inside the vehicle, 

and a start was made to drive towards 

Greenock, Suddenly the coastguard officers 

came upon the scene and, in the Queen's 

name, demanded the surrender of 

the smuggling parLy. The driver, 

however, urged the horses forward. 

The officers hailed him again, and 


the Clyde, between 1 11 ver kip. and Gourock, 
the cases were thrown into the sea, the cork 
float denoting to the parties ashore who were 
in the secret where the "treasure" would be 
found. Towards nightfall boats would leave 
the beach, and those on hoard, after reaching 
the locality where the cases were supposed to 
be, would make believe to commence fishing 
with deep-sea lines. On the cases being 
brought to the surface they would, of course, 
be promptly got on board, and in the dark- 
ness the boat would be run ashore on a 
lonely part of the coast, where the cases 
could be silently beach fed. 

Thus went the proceedings on the occa- 
sion in question. But it is part of the 

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said if he did not stop they would fire. 
This threat he paid no heed to, and so 
a blank cartridge was fired. Still the driver 
kept on, and, as he was speedily outdistancing 
his pursuers, it was necessary to act with 
decision* The commander of the party 
accordingly fired another shot, this time not 
blank. It was aimed at the horses, but 
took effect on the cab, and that so near the 
driver that he at once pulled up, 

Immediately the cab stopped the two men 
inside jumped out and made off, and, as the 
coastguard were unable to pursue them and 
at the same time guard the booty, the 
smugglers escaped. 

Meanwhile the driver, to save his skin, 

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gave the officers information which led them 
to pay a visit to the residence of a private 
gentleman not far away, whose coachman 
was the receiver of a great part of the 
smugglers' contraband goods. To the delight 
of the coastguard, 300th. of foreign tobacco 
was discovered concealed in the coachhouse, 


and another 450IU in a dunghill This " find," 
together with what was in the cab, proved 
the largest haul that had been made for 
many years, and the incriminated coachman 
was thereafter to be found at the one address 
for a long time to come. 

This illustrates the work of the coastguard 
for one of its masters — the Customs* But 
the coastguard has to serve three masters, 
and to be equally attentive to each ; the 
Customs, the Hoard of Trade, and the 
Admiralty. It is, as already noted, under 
the immediate jurisdiction of the Admiralty, 
and as a guard to the coast is a part of the 
naval service of the country. Many of the 
more important stations, especially those on 
the south coast, grc connected with each 
other by tclrphone, ,is well as with the 
Admiralty offices at Whitehall by telegraph, 
so that a man-of-war, coming within sii;ht of 
one of them, can signal a message through 
the coastguard station to head -quarters, and, 
of course, get a reply by the same means in 

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a very short time, A gunboat may run near 
enough to shore to call the attention of a 
coastguard station, and so signal a telegram 
for transmission, Or it may ask them to 
send a boat off to receive some message 
or attend to other duty. One evening a 
small Channel Station was thus signalled. 

A boat put off ; 
but as a dense 
fog came on its 
occupants rowed 
about for several 
hours trying in 
vain to find the 
cruiser, In the 
morning the latter 
again ran inshore, 
signalled 1 and 
asked why a boat 
was not sent off 
as requested Of 
course the answer 
was that such had 
been done, and 
that the men not 
only could not 
find the ship, but 
had great difficulty 
in getting back to 

Sometimes such 
method of com- 
munication is 
used for very odd 
purposes. On one 
occasion it is said 
-and the leader must take the yarn for 
what it is worth a vessel called The 
Parroi signalled the message for trans- 
mission to Whitehall : " Chief boat Parroi 
lost - please send another," Either by 
mistake or in jest the word " boat s was 
left out, and so the message ran that the 
chief parrot was lost, and that another was 
required in its place. The story goes that 
after the message had been lying at the 
Admiralty for several months someone got 
hold of it and ordered a parrot from 
Jam rack's, and had it sent on to the Parrot 
gunboat, or whatever she was. Polly arrived 
on board all right, greatly, of course, to the 
surprise of the crew and command ; but 
their surprise was much heightened when the 
bird eyed the lot of them standing round her 
cage, and with a good imitation of a laugh 
exclaimed, " My Gawd, what a one-eyed, 
rating ! " 

As servants of the Customs Department 
the. iiu^guard have to see that Her Majesty's 

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revenues are not defrauded, and as servants of 
the Board of Trade they are called upon to 
protect life and property. The latter is, 
perhaps, the department of their duties that 
is the most arduous. All who are in the 
habit of reading the newspapers know what 
danger is run by ships and men when storms 
and fogs arise. Then it is that the coasL 
guard have to be actively in evidence, helping 
to save life and to protect property. If a 
ship becomes a wreck she at once falls under 
their charge ; or, more properly speaking, 
she comes under their charge directly the 
captain and crew leave her. Then they are 
responsible to the owners and to the Board 
of Trade for every spar and every pound of 
cargo that is salvable, or rather to the 
u VVrcck " department of that Board. 

When once anything of the nature of 
wreckage has been reported to the Commis- 
sion of Wrecks— it may be a boat with the 
name and address of the owner on it, a 
barrel of oil, or a fishing net from the next 
parish— it cannot be delivered to the owner 
or owners until the matter has gone through 
t h e requ i red 
routine and the 
necessary number 
of derks' hands. 

Of course, when 
a large vessel is 
wrecked the salv- 
ing of her cargo is 
no light matter, 
as anyone well 
knows who has 
bee n present 
when one has 
come ashore and 
there has been 
anything of a port- 
able nature that 
could be got hold 
of. At such times 
it not infrequently 
happens that, if 
there hasn't been 
a soul in sight 
before, the spot 
soon swarms 

with people, "all intent on plunder," as a 
coastguard once put it 4t They would eat 
you and the ship, too, if they could," he 
continued, "and you have to be nothing but 
eyes, or the whole ship and cargo would be 
carried off under your very nose, I have 
known men, when they have been helping to 
salve a cargo, pass tins of preserved meat 
from the vessel to their friends who were on 

the watch in sacks of coal. And, in fact ? 
they are up to all sorts of dodges." 

It is not many months since a woman was 
caught tarrying off ;\ bundle of valuable lace 
done up in the form of a baby, which she 
was hugging and talking to very fondly, when 
a coastguard, suspecting some ruse, asked to 
" have a look at the kid " ; and when he 
found that it was no human bundle he out 
with some rich bluejacket slang about trying 
to "kid" the "pore sailor-man, 3: adding, 
" hut the pore sailor-man ain't agoing to 
stand your kid." 

The coastguard's most dangerous and, 
perhaps, most important service is rendered 
in connection with the rescue of shipwrecked 
mariners. To enable them to give efficient 
aid in this respect they are provided with 
rocket apparatus by the Board of Trade ; 
and one need only be acquainted with 
our coasts, especially the south coast, to 
be aware with what astonishing success 
the apparatus is often brought into re- 
quisition. It is not, of course, an easy matter 
in a heavy gale to send a line by means 


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of a rocket over a distressed or sinking 
ship in such a way that it can be used to 
drag a hawser on board. Sometimes attempt 
after attempt is made in vain.' But, the rope 
once secured, it is a comparatively easy 
matter with the aid of a basket or a trousers- 
buoy to bring passengers and crew to kind, 
although tlur process is rather a slow one. 
Not long ago a splendid rescue was thus 
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effected at Bopeep, St. Leonards, the first 
persons to be brought ashore being a woman 
and a baby, the latter apparently none the 
worse for its early morning sea-bath. The 
rescue took place between seven and eight 
o'clock, and the spray every now and again 
broke completely over the basket bringing 
the mother and child to land. 

During the terrific storm that occurred 
towards the end of September, 1896, a still 
more exciting scene was witnessed at Folke- 
stone. One morning about six o'clock, the 
wind blowing a hurricane at the time, a 
coastguardsman who was on duty there saw 
in the grey haze a barque rapidly drifting 
ashore. As nothing short of a miracle 
could save her from going on the rocks, 
he at once communicated with the officer 
in command at Sandgate, and in a few 
minutes the rocket apparatus was horsed 
and on its way to the scene of the 
wreck. For by this time the vessel— which 
proved to be the Agdar, of Frederikstadt, 
timber-laden— had gone broadside on the 
rocks, between the promenade pier and the 
harbour, and was being swept every minute 
by drenching seas. Her crew were, of 
course, quite helpless, and could be seen in 
the dim, uncertain light, huddled together, 
' expecting every moment to be washed over- 
board. The coastguard fired two rockets 
from the pier, but the wind was so terrific, 
and the rain so heavy, that they both missed 
the ship. 

By this time the Folkestone lifeboat had 
been launched and was making for the 
wreck ; and as in the meantime another 
barque, the Baron Holberg^ was seen to be 
drifting to destruction at the same place as 
the Agdar, the coastguard moved the rocket 
apparatus down to the beach to render 
assistance to the new-comer, which in a very 
few minutes was crashing upon the rocks, 
dragging with her the wreckage of her main- 
mast, which had gone by the board a little 
while before she struck. 

After several unsuccessful attempts com- 
munication was established with the Baron 
Holberg ; a hawser was hauled on board and 
fastened to the vessel's windmill pump. One 
of the crew started to go ashore hand over 
fist ; but when almost on land the rope broke, 
and he, of course, found himself struggling 
\\\ the boiling waves. He was, however, 
speedily rescued by men joining hands and 
going to his aid. Another hawser was quickly 
made fast, and two more men were brought 
ashore. Then a heavier sea than usual 
carried away the windmill pump. Again the 

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hawser was secured, this time to the mizzen- 
mast, and the remainder of the crew were got 
safely to land. 

Several of the crew of the Agdar were 
taken off the vessel by the lifeboat, but the 
remainder were hauled through the surf by 
means of a line cleverly heaved on board by 
a coastguardsman. Altogether it. was a smart 
piece of work, and did credit to the coast- 
guard, but for whose promptitude and wealth 
of resource many of the men would doubtless 
have been lost. 

Sometimes, unfortunately, the coastguard 
are obliged to witness the utter futility of 
their efforts through no fault of their own. 
This was strikingly the case when, a couple 
of years ago, the steam trawler Nellie was 
driven ashore in a tempest at Rattray Head, 
ten miles north of Peterhead. Immediately 
after the vessel struck three men were washed 
overboard by the heavy seas dashing over the 
doomed craft. The remainder of the crew 
took refuge in the rigging, where the waves 
continually went over them. The coastguards- 
men successfully fired two rockets with lines 
right over the ship ; but the castaways made 
no effort to haul the hawser on board, being 
evidently benumbed with the cold and 
exposure, and one by one they were licked 
off their perch in the tops and carried away 
by the breakers. 

Many are the sights of the kind which the 
coastguard are compelled from time to time 
to witness, though never without doing their 
utmost to help. They are thus compelled 
because they are always on the look-out, day 
and night ; and there is practically no part of 
the coast which is not patrolled by them. 
Every night a man on patrol duty at one 
station has to touch hands, so to speak, with 
the patrol of the next station on either side. 
One ought perhaps to add " weather per- 
mitting," although it has to be very excep- 
tional weather for the duty to be omitted. 

Sometimes this duty, light as it may seem, 
proves one of no small danger. To walk miles 
in a heavy downpour of rain, in dense fog, or 
in a high wind, is not a light matter at the 
best of times ; but when the walk has to be 
done along the edge of a beetling cliff it 
often becomes extremely perilous. An in- 
stance of the kind occurred not long ago. 
A coastguardsman was on his way back after 
meeting the man from the next station, when 
he suddenly came upon a soldier and a 
sailor, who asked to be shown the way to the 
station he had left. He turned to show 
them, and in so doing he so completely lost 
his direction in the dense fog which was 

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prevailing that, though he made several 
attempts to recover the path* he on each 
occasion presently found himself on the verge 
of a precipitous cliff 300ft, above the sea. 
Not caring to run the risk of such a fall he 
made his way inland and returned by the. 
high road. 

If a river or arm of the sea intervenes 
the patrol is done by boat In some cases 
the mouths of 
rivers, as at Burn- 
ham on the 
Crouch, are pro- 
tected by a float- 
ing coastguard 

Besides the 
night patrols there 
fs a day patrol 
also, and many are 
the rescues from 
positions of immi- 
nent peril that 
have been effected 
by coastguards- 
men thus on the 
look - out. Some 
years ago the 
writer witnessed a 
splendid piece of 
work of the kind 
from the cliffs 
south of Whitby. 
Two lovers had 
sauntered down on 
to the rocks and 

were there amusing themselves as lovers will, 
utterly oblivious of danger, when they sud- 
denly became aware of the fact thai the rising 
tide had cut off their retreat. Ft was an 
exceedingly lonely part, and though they 
cried their loudest and waved their hand- 
kerchiefs no one seemed to see them, and 
they had almost given themselves up to 
despair when a -coastguards man, coming 
that way, heard their cries and, procuring 
speedy assistance, succeeded by means of 
ropes in hauling them up the cliff. 

A similar rescue was effected not long ago 
on the North Kent coast near to R ecu hers. 
A little girl whose home was close to the 
shore had been to take her father's breakfast, 
and returning by a path along the edge of 
the cliff inadvertently stepped upon apiece 
of loose earth, which at once slid from under 
her feet, precipitating her half-way down 
to the beach, where fortunately she lodged 
on a projecting portion of the cliff. It was 
impossible for her either to climb up or to 

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get down the cliff, and so she was kept a 
prisoner for hours. Sought everywhere in 
vain by the agonized mother, it was reserved 
for a coastguard officer to descry her asleep 
on her perilous perch, and to descend by 
means of a rope to her assistance, which he 
cleverly managed before she was aware of 
what was going on. Had her rescue been 
delayed much longer she must have been 


caught and drowned by the rising tide- 
Whenever anything out of the ordinary 
takes place within sight of their look-outs 
the coastguard have to be on the alert to 
render help if it should be required. Such 
was the case when, early one morning in 
June, 1897, the men of the coastguard station 
at Walmer saw smoke proceeding from the 
forepart of a large, fulUrigge f ship, which 
was being towed up the Channel by a foreign- 
looking tug. As it was thought something 
must be wrong a boat was put off to see if 
any assistance was required. When the 
coastguardsmen came alongside they found 
that it had just been discovered on board 
that the ship was on fire, and t indeed, in a 
very short time it was only too patent what 
was the matter, the hull of the ship at the 
bow end having become red-hot. 

The vessel turned out to be the Micronesia, 

of Liverpool, bound from Iquique to Ostend 

with a cargo of nitrate, which is at all times 

liable to fire from overheating. She was 

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being towed to her destination by an Ostend 
tug when, just before the coastguard came 
off to warn them, some of the crew had per- 
ceived smoke coming up from the fore-hold. 
The fire had evidently got such a secure 
grip that it was deemed useless to battle with 
it, and therefore, with the aid of the coast- 
guard, most of the crew were transferred to 
the tug. Later in the day another tug ran 
up from Dover to assist, and the burning 
ship, enveloped in smoke and with fore-mast 
toppled over the port side, was run aground 
near Sandown Castle. 

A curious incident happened in connection 
with this disaster. A gentleman belonging to 
Liverpool named Croft had a son on board 
the Micronesia, and wishing to see him 
after his voyage he went over to Ostend to 
meet him on his arrival. As the vessel, how- 
ever, was considerably behind her time he 
could not wait any longer, and was crossing 
to Dover in the Ostend boat when, as they 
passed the Goodwin Sands, all on board were 
greatly excited to see a ship on fire. When 
they came hear to the burning vessel glasses 
were naturally directed to her stern to see 
the name she bore and her port of origin. 
Imagine, then, the surprise of the father, and 
his dismay likewise, when he learned that she 
was the one for whose arrival he had been so 
patiently waiting at Ostend. However, he 
was not long at Dover before intelligence 
came from the coastguard that the ship's 
company were all in safety. 

Nothing could better show the pluck and 
energy with which the coastguard go about 
their work than the rescue of four men which 
a party of them effected from the wreck of 
the German brigantine Ernst a year or two 
ago. During a November night the Ernst 
was driven on a shingle bank, Isle of Wight, 
and became a total wreck. The captain, the 
mate, and a seaman were rescued by the 
Totland lifeboat, the secretary of which had 
been apprised of the wreck by the station- 
officer of the Totland coastguard, who had 
received the information by telephone. 

This took place between nine and ten in 
the morning. Somewhat later the officer of 
the coastguard at Stanpit was informed that 
four men of the Ernst were drifting towards 
Christchurch Head on a raft. Coastguards- 
men were accordingly sent to the beach at 
Mudeford with cork jackets and surf lines. 
After a time wreckage was seen in the 
distance, and the raft was sighted two miles 
off the shore drifting towards Warren Head. 
Three coastguardsmen, named respectively 
Brice, Rolls, and Saunders, acting under 

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orders from Chief-boatman Exeter, proceeded 
to a point where it was deemed probable that 
the raft would come ashore. Upon the raft 
— which consisted of the cook-house roof — 
nearing the breakers it was feared that the 
poor fellows would be washed off and 
drowned. A man named Isaac Coakes 
made a gallant attempt to reach them, 
but, not wearing a cork jacket, he had 
no sooner gone into the water than he 
was hurled back on land. Coastguardsman 
William Henry Rolls thereupon stripped and, 
putting on a cork jacket, plunged into the 
surf and, being a fine swimmer, succeeded 
in reaching the raft. This was a distance of 
200 yards away, and he did "not reach it a 
moment too soon. For just as he came up 
to it two of the men were washed off and 
must inevitably have perished but for his 
holding them up until his mate Saunders, 
who attended him with a surf-line, could 
relieve him of one of them. The other two 
men, despite their exhausted state, managed 
to keep afloat after being thrown off the raft 
until Isaac Coakes and his brother and W. 
Price brought them safely to land. Rolls 
and his charge also landed safely. 

The men thus rescued had been without 
food for nearly two days, besides suffering 
many hours' exposure on a frail raft in a 
rough sea. They were taken to the coast- 
guard station, and there received every 
possible kindness and attention. 

The above incidents exemplify the various 
duties and dangers which the coastguard are 
called upon to perform. But there is still 
another way in which their services may be 
required, and that is when illicit trade is 
being carried on within the three-mile limit, 
over which British jurisdiction extends. An 
instance in point occurred a little while ago, 
when a Belgian steamer, illegally engaged 
in " coopering," as it is called —that is, selling 
spirits or tobacco to the English fishing fleet 
— was boarded by a body of coastguardsmen, 
and after a smart struggle was captured and 
carried into Yarmouth. 

This kind of thing is not of infrequent 
occurrence, and not long ago a " cooper," as 
if conscious of her own illegal doings, went 
ashore on the Sussex coast, close to the 
Haddich coastguard station, and became a 
total wreck. 

Not infrequently an amusing incident will 
occur in connection with these " coopers." 
They come alike from French, Belgian, and 
Dutch ports ; but they are so closely watched 
that it is seldom they get away without their 
sailing being reported to the coastguard, who, 





of course, are then all on the alert for their in the naval manoeuvres. Here is an in- 

arrival Information of two such was sent stance. When the opposing fleets were 

not long since to the coastguard on the west off the west coast of Ireland a coast* 

coast of Ireland. The report was that they guard on the look-out at a station some 

were making for the Irish fishing fleet forty miles to the N.W. of Cork spied the 

Naturally a very active look-out was kept, enemy about twenty -eight miles away, 

Finally a message 
came by wire to 
one station 
from its nearest 
neighbour, ** Look 
out for * cooper, 3 
coming your way. 
Send out boats to 
intercept her. 7 ' 

A boat was at 
once manned and 
put off to meet 
her. Indue course 
the signalled 
vessel came in 
sight There could 
be no mistake, 
the description 
was so exact. She 
was accordingly 
hailed and ordered 
to lay to. Thai 
she did without 
demur, and the 
captain called out 
" I know what you 
have come for. 
You take us for a 
; cooper/ and we 

north, proceeding 
in a southerly 
direction. He im- 
mediately notified 
where the oppos- 
ing fleet was lying. 
The Admiral at 
once sailed out, 
and before the 
enemy had reach- 
ed the coastguard 
station he was on 
her track, so that 
her contemplated 
operation was 
completely foiled. 
On another oc- 
casion the enemy's 
fleet signalled the 
same station, ask- 
ing for informa- 
tion, B efo re 
enlightening them 
in any way the 
coastguard asked 
for the counter- 
sign. This, of 
course, they could 

have, in fact, a not give, and so 

thousand pounds they were parleyed 
of tobacco on sight duty— answkkikg pwt&bss sisals bv nuHNiftc a light. with ana held in 

board ; you can hand until the 

come and see it if you like. But we are station had communicated with the fleet 

no 'cooper.' We are a mission-ship, bound at Queenstown, which was again out and 

for the Irish fishing fleet. Come on upon them before they knew what they 

board and have a bit of something to eat 
and a pray, and you can see for yourselves.' 1 
Which they did, and were satisfied. 

The real " cooper ft never turned up* The 
telegraph and the telephone disconcert 
these gentry very much + They also make 
naval operations difficult — as exemplified 

were about. 

Every year the coastguard have to go up 
either for a fortnight's drill or to join the 
autumn manoeuvres. This, because it brings 
them in contact with old comrades and with 
life, they account a holiday and enjoy 

Vol. Hxiu— 36 

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Original from 

The Making of a Speech, 

Thh Oratorical Art as Viewed by Mr* Chamberlain, Sir Hhnry Fowler, Lord 


By Frederick Dolman, 

Illustrations from Photographs by Elli&tt &* Fry. 

HE orator is born, not made." 
To the universality of belief 
in this familiar platitude is 
largely due, I believe, the vast 
amount of poor speaking with 
which public bodies, from the 
House of Commons on an "off night " to the 
local cricket club at its annual dinner, are con- 
stantly afflicted. A few irrepressible speakers 
probably cherish the illusion that they are 
born orators, and most of the others, from 
the careless indifference with which they 
give utterance to their thoughts, seem to 
argue the hopelessness of any contest with 
the decree of Nature. But the experience of 
men who win distinc- 
tion on the platform 
goes far to prove that, 
whilst the divine fire of 
a Gladstone or a Chat 
ham is the gift of the 
gods, the art of elo- 
quence is to be 
acquired, like other 
arts, by severe effort 
and strenuous labour. 
At least, that is the con- 
clusion which has been 
forced upon my mind 
by inquiries I have 
been making among a 
number of represent- 
ative men at the 
Senate and in the 
pulpit, my two leading 
questions being some 
what as follows: — 

41 What is your own 
method in the making of a speech ? " 

"Speaking from experience, what advice 
would you give to a novice who sought your 
aid in the art of public speaking ? " 

Mr, Chamberlain happens to have dis- 
cussed the subject with some fulness in an 
address he gave to the Birmingham and 
Edgbaston Debating Society on the occasion 
of its jubilee a few years ago, and to this 
address he referred me when 1 put these 
questions to him. The Secretary of State 
for the Colonies mentioned that he joined the 
society in 1854, when eighteen years of age, 


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and continued a member till 1863, during 
which period he always took an active part in 
the debates. Mr. Chamberlain's first speech 
was delivered on the night of his elt ction to 
the society, in opposition to a resolution, 
11 That the character and conduct of Oliver 
Cromwell do not entitle him to the admira- 
tion ol posterity." 

u No good argument," Mr. Chamberlain 
declared at the outset, li was ever perfectly 
rendered without serious labour, and if it be 
the fact, as I believe it is, as we have been 
told by a great French writer, that true elo- 
quence consists in saying all that is proper 
and nothing more— it is the latter part of the 
condition which is 
most difficult, and more 
lime will be taken in 
pruning away redun- 
dancies, in abandoning 
all that is not pertinent 
to the subject, than in 
preparing the language 
which is actually to be 
used* . . , 

44 1 imagine that the 
experience of all of us 
will suggest instances 
in which even good 
speakers would have 
spoken better if they 
had adopted a little 
more compression, 
That means trouble, 
that means pain/ 1 

In Mr Chamberlain's 
opinion John Bright 
was the greatest orator 
of his generation, and, having regard to the 
personal association which existed between 
them for many years, there is much interest 
in the account which he gives of Bright's 
method ; — 

11 Bright took infinite pains in the prepara- 
tion of his speeches, giving even as much as 
a week or more to the elaboration of his 
thoughts ; and he told me in regard to his 
method that his object was in the first place 
to grasp himself clearly the central idea and 
main principle that he wished to impress upon 
his hearers, then to state it in the simplest 
terms he could find, and, while avoiding 

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every superfluous word, every unnecessary 
argument, to reinforce the text by such 
illustrations and arguments as suggested 
themselves to his mind, * and so/ he said, * I 
hope that when I sit down my listeners will 
have understood and will retain the main 
thing, the main idea, that has been the 
object of my discourse,' 

"Well," continued Mr. Chamberlain, "it 
is not all of us who can draw the bow of 
Ulysses, We cannot hope to imitate Mr, 
Bright in his highest flights, but we may all 
follow his example in grudging no labour and 
no time in order to 
make clear to others 
the truth as it appears 
to us," 

One or two of Mr. 
Chamberlain's feltow- 
members of the Bir- 
mingham and Edg has- 
ten Debating Society 
have placed on record 
their impressions of the 
right honourable gentle- 
man's early oratory. At 
first, it seems, Ml 
Chamberlain " lea rned 
his speeches by heart 
and somewhat pain- 
fully ; his delivery, 
though always clear, 
was at first laboured," 

" It was impossible," 
writes Mr. C. N. 
Mathew, who was hon« 
secretary, of the society 
during part of the time 
of Mr. Chamberlain's membership, " not to 
be in teres ted r edified, and often amused by 
the intelligence, point, and smartness of his 
speech* At the same time there was, 
especially in the earlier days of his career, a 
certain setness and formality of style that 
suggested that his speeches were anything 
but the inspiration of the moment, but had 
been made beforehand, and were being read 
off— the result of painstaking study, care, 
and elaboration/' On one occasion, it is 
stated, Mr, Chamberlain actually broke down 
in proposing a toast at a semi-public dinner, 
and resumed his seat without finishing his 
speech. On the whole, therefore, Mr. Cham- 
berlain's own experience goes to support 
his view as to eloquence— in its less exacting 
sense — being the result of persevering effort 
rather than of inherent talent. 

I had a brief conversation with Sir Charles 

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Dilke one night at the House of Commons, 
in the ranks of whose debaters he has for 
long held a foremost place, 

"My earliest experience," said Sir Charles, 
" was obtained at the Cambridge Union. 
I spoke with some frequency and became 
President* The Cambridge Union at that 
time favoured a business-like style of speech 
as compared with the more oratorical manner 
of the Oxford Union, and this fact had its 
influence, I suppose, on my own training. 
A * Freshman J who attempted anything like 
rhetorical flourish was apt to be laughed at + 
A speech full of facts 
and ' points ! rather 
than phrases was best 
listened to, and this 
naturally led one to pre- 
pare the subject more 
than the speech — by 
which I mean getting 
up the facts and argu- 
ments carefully and 
leaving the language to 
take care of itself." 

"And has your 
method always been 
the same ? Ji 

"Yes; after going 
round the world I went 
at once into Parliament. 
But although I had 
never felt nervous when 
speaking at Cambridge 
I was for some years 
very much afraid of the 
House of Commons, 
and never faced my 
audience without mental distress, But I 
gradually overcame this feeling and 
persevered in my old Cambridge method, 
carefully getting up every subject and pre- 
paring fairly full notes, but notes which were 
entirely concerned with the matter and not 
the manner of my speech." 

"But I suppose a telling phrase in a 
political speech — such a phrase as goes 
all over the country — is scarcely ever 
impromptu ?" 

" Ah, I wonder ! Lord Beaeonsfield, who 
was the greatest of phrase-makers in his time, 
used to quote Bolingbroke and Burke in the 
earlier part of his career, and later in life 
used to quote himself. Some of the best 
phrases one hears in the House of Commons 
don't go over the country. Major Rasch, 
for instance, often says remarkably good 
things j but they don't give him fame. 

When bimetallism w&s under discussion he 
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summed up the whole economic philosophy 
of the question in two or three words. * Mr, 
Speaker,' said Major Rasch, * what is bi- 
metallism ? You take a shilling and call it 
eighteenpence,' The ton mot was excellent, 
but it did not catch on. As a rule, the 
famous phrase owes almost everything to the 
voice. Some of John Brigbt's most success- 
ful phrases would have sounded common- 
place from a speaker with a less musical and 
expressive voice/ 1 

M But from your rule as to preparation, Sir 
Charles, would you not make an exception 
in favour of the 
peroration ? ,J 

"If you have got a 
very effect i ve beg i n * 
ning and end, so 
much the better, of 
course. But nothing 
is more deplorable 
than to hear a man, 
towards the end of 
his speech, break off 
into a passage which 
lu.' has obviously 
learned by heart— the 
transition from the 
spontaneous 10 the 
automatic is very 
painful On the other 
hand, the difficulty in 
making an end is, as 
you say, a common 
trouble with inexperi- 
enced speakers, and 
to avoid these fake 
finishes it is certainly 
well to have a con- 
cluding point fixed 
in your mind," 

By way of com- 
mentary upon Sir 
Chnrles Dilke's con- 
versation some interesting references to his 
career are to be found in Mr. H. W, Lucy's 
* c Diary of Two Parliaments. ' For some time 
after he entered the House of Commons in 
1868 Uilke, we are told, " was about as bad a 
speaker as one would find among an average 
srore of members." In 1877, on the other 
hand, Mr, Lucy describes him as "one of 
the most effective speakers in the House." 

The Right Hon. Sir Henry Fowler, M.P., 
who is a distinguished solicitor as well as an 
ex - Secretary of Slate, was kind enough to 
spare half an hour of his busy day to a dis- 
cussion of this subject. 


by Google 

t( Where did you graduate as a speaker?" 
I first asked Sir Henry, who has been 
described by a friendly opponent as a 
statesman who " never spoke without being 
master of his subject, and, though it was 
often complicated, he made it clear. 1 ' 

"At the Law Students' Debating Society, 
which I regularly attended during the years I 
was studying law in London. This society, 
which meets at the Law Institution in Chancery 
I^ne, used to have debates— and still has, I 
believe — on general subjects as well as on 
questions of law. This was all the training 

I had, but it was 
valuable training be- 
cause of the friendly 
criticism the members 
gave each other. " 

" And you were 
frequently speaking 
from that time for- 

"Well, on returning 
to Wolverhampton I 
took an active interest 
in local life, Then f 
until I was elected to 
the House of Com- 
mons in 18S0, I was 
frequently taking part 
in public meetings on 
free education and 
other political ques- 
tions that were not 
then so popular as they 
a fi erward s beca m c. " 

"Would you qualify 
in any way your 
opinion of debating 
societies , Sir Henry, 
as training grounds ? " 
M Well, I suppose 
I here is some danger, 
as you have just sug- 
gested, of such societies encouraging speak- 
ing for speaking's sake. But this should 
not he much if the critical spirit on the 
part of the members furnishes healthy re- 
straint. I am sure that since these societies 
became prevalent there has been a decided 
improvement in the general average of public 
speaking, although there is still, of course, a 
great dea! of empty wordiness," 

" Do you think this improvement corre- 
sponds tu an improvement in the House of 
Commons ?" 

" Well, during the twenty years I have been 
a member there has been a considerable 
change in the House of Commons' style. The 
Original from 



*S S 

business-like style is now most in favour ; 
men care little for the rounded periods which 
pleased their fathers, and appreciate most the 
speeches which show most knowledge of the 
subject The average of debating power 
is certainly higher, I should say. On the 
other hand, many more members read — or 
practically read — their speeches. At one 
time the House was much less lenient to this 
practice, and a story is told of a Lancashire 
member who, in using extremely full notes, 
was assailed with ironical cries of ( Read, 
read.' ' I am reading,' the poor man 
innocently replied*" 

Speaking of his own method, Sir Henry 
gave me to understand that it varied with the 
occasion. He never spared trouble in 
preparation of a subject, but sometimes his 
notes for an hour's speech would not occupy 
more than one sheet of letter-paper ; at other 
times they would fill many. 

" I find it advisable to have full notes," 
the right honourable gentleman added, 
(t when dealing with 
figures, as in a 
Budget debate, or 
when speaking with 
a sense of excep- 
tional responsi- 
bility, as in the 
debate which took 
place when I was 
at the India Office 
on the Indian Cot- 
ton Duties. Even 
with the best pre- 
paration and the 
most carefully pre- 
pared notes there 
is always some 
danger of saying 
something which 
you did not intend 
to say, or of omit- 
ting something 
which you did in- 
tend to say. I 
suppose there is no 
public speaker who 
has not sometimes 
used the wrong 
word because the 
right one was not 

forthcoming at the moment. This is one of 
the worst tribulations of the platform, par- 
ticularly if a speaker is called over the coals 
for something which he really did not intend 
to say." 

To attempt to speak from memory 

Digitized by t_iOi 

course to be recommended only to those who 
had an exceptional faculty in this respect. 
" B right's * purple patches,' as they were 
called," remarked Sir Henry, in reminiscent 
mood, ts were committed to memory, but as 
a rule he spoke from notes on small square 
cards. Lord Randolph Churchill used to 
write some of his speeches, but I recollect 
his telling me that he was able to remember 
them by writing them out once. As a rule, 
the strain on a memorizer is too great ; 
there is always the possibility of a disastrous 
breakdown. This nervous strain seriously 
injured Dr. Finish on, the great preacher, 
I believe. Mr* Gladstone, with extraordi- 
narily ample flow of language, never spoke 
in this way ; he would prepare a sheaf 
of notes for a big speech, but in point of 
fact little or no use would be made of them. 
But, of course, the genius of oratory stands 
by itself, independent of method or rule. 
The real debater also, it seems to me, is 
born, and not made ; an instinct for debate, 

such as Mr. Balfour, 
Mr. Chamberlain, 
and Mr. Asquith 
possess^ cannot be 
acquired, A states- 
man who has this 
instinct very 
strongly once told 
me that he could 
not enjoy a sermon; 
he was a 1 w ays 
thinking, * What is 
the reply to this 
fellow? 1 

" But for the 
average man I 
should say that the 
best advice as to 
public speaking was 
this : Prepare your 
points and argu- 
ments well, but 
leave to the in- 
spiration of the 
moment the lan- 
guage in which they 
are to be clothed." 


>ry was i 


Lord Teel, the 
ex-Speaker, sent me 
a brief reply, but as will be seen from its 
terms gave an instructive clue as to the 
opinions which, with his exceptional ex- 
perience of the House of Commons, he 
personally holds on the subject. 

i: I have nq ■ method/'' writes Lord Peel, 




"which I think it would be advantageous to 
send you. I recollect, however, a little book 
by — I think— the Bishop of Ripon which I 
cannot help saying would be useful in con- 
veying advice and hints on the subject." 

The book whose value 1-ord Fed thus 
endorses is entitled " lectures on Preaching." 
As the name implies, I)r, Boyd Carpenter 
addresses himself 
through the woik 
to pulpit aspirants, 
but t according to 
the high authority 
of the ex-Speaker T 
the Bishop's advice 
is equally applic- 
able to platform 
aspirants, and I 
therefore give one 
or two illustrative 
extracts : — 

"Clear language 
— language, that is, 
which carries its 
own meaning 
straight, and with- 
out starting side- 
puzzles in the 
minds of your 
hearers— is the first 
condition of fitness 
of language. From 
this it will follow 
that what is simple 
and natural is best 
The ambition of 
grand, high-sound- 
ing words is a poor ambition, and, like most 
mean ambitions, it defeats itself. Let us 
avoid the example of the clergyman who 
counselled the boys to whom he was preach- 
ing on the subject of mirth or cheerfulness: 
* Let your mirth be as the estival electricity, 
lambent but innocuous.' 

" Talk English and not Johnsonese. Let 
your thought govern your language, and not 
your language your thought \ and for this 
purpose give your thought its natural ex- 
pression. Do not let your minnows talk 
like whales. Is your thought simple? Be 
content with simple words. Is your thought 
noble ? Then simple language most nobly 
expresses it If you use lofty and digni- 
fied language let it be because the 
thought itself insensibly lifts your style to 
a loftier range. The cultivation of word- 
worship is the decay of thought. The 
ambition of word-painting is a small one 
and must thwart true eloquence ; for if 

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your thought be not eloquent your words 
will only mock them." 

By his eloquence both on the platform 
and in the pulpit the Bishop of Ripon is 
preeminent in the Church of England, and 
I am very glad, therefore, that on reference 
to him his lordship was good enough to sum- 
marize, from the 
particular stand- 
point of this article, 
his philosophy of 
speech-making: — 

" I would say to 
anyone who has to 
speak — think, 
think, think, and 
think again, till you 
have separated the 
essential from the 
accidental matter 
of your subject, and 
till you can clearly 
see what needs to 
be said. Think, 
think, think again 
of the people, that 
you may be able to 
say what needs to 
be said in the way 
which they can un- 
derstand. And 
after all prepara- 
tion think, think, 
think again till you 
are in the posses- 
sion of the thing 
you mean and wish to say. Words are but 
counters, and the power that can use them 
best is a clear perception of what you 
need to say, animated by an earnest wish to 
say it. 

"I can add really little to this, 3 ' continued 
the Bishop, " except this word — Reverence. 
No man will be a help to his brother man 
who does not reverence him as well as the 
message he seeks to pass on to him. For all 
speakers this is needful ; for the religious 
teacher more than all." 

Dr. Clifford, who is probably the most 
influential speaker arnong Nonconformist 
divines, was kind enough to give me a very 
careful account of his own methods : — 

My method is fi) to master my fads and my line 
of reasoning as far as possible* 

(z) Write out what I wish to say as fully as time 

(3) Rewrite or — as the Germans say — rework the 
subject* ~ . . £ 

J Original from 




(4) " Boil down " &o as 1o get the briefest analysis 
of what is to 1* said. 

(5) Resist the , temptation to rely upon the 
written phrase and leave the mind to act with 
all possible freedom and spontaneity. 

(6) Make clear to myself the precise character 
of the result 1 wish to achieve and then bend all 
my energies in that direction. 

In the form of advice Dr. Clifford tubu- 
lated further information as to the way in 
which his platform powers had been gained ; — 

(1) Never forget distinctness of articulation, This 
is a primary consideration in effective utterance. 

(2) To get a vocabulary read the best literature 
and mark all elect terms ; terms that give distinc- 
tion to a sentence and lift it out of the rut of a 
wearisome commonness. 

(3) To secure self- command become self-oblivious 
by charging the entire mind — the emotional not less 
than the reflective pari — with the subject and with the 
purpose of the speech. 

(4) Incessant and un despairing work is all in alL 


From these statements it would seem that 
few public speakers can find their work more 
arduous and exacting than the well-known 
minister of Weslbourne Park Chapel, Vet 
how little this is suspected probably by the 
large audience whom Dr. Clifford moves to 
indignation or laughter with apparently equal 
ease ! 

The Right Hon. H. H. Asquith replied 
to my interrogation with the remark: "1 
suspect that in the matter of public speak- 
ing every man is, and ought to be, a law to 
himself/' Holding this somewhat excep- 
tional opinion, Mr. Asquith, who had his 

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own training in oratory at the Oxford Union, 
had, of course, nothing to say in the way 
of advice or information as to method. 

Earl Spencer was precluded from comply- 
ing with my desire by a depreciative estimate 
of his own powers in the Senate or on the 
platform, with which few of those who have 
heard him would be found to agree. 

"I have no pretensions as a speaker," his 
lordship writes to me, u to justify my giving 






advice to those who want to learn how 
to speak. 

"I can make my meaning and intention 
clear, but beyond that I cannot aspire to 
be a speaker to imitate." 

In the same spirit the 
Right Hon. J. W. Lowther, 

who now occupies the posi- 
tion of Deputy-Speaker of 
the House of Commons, 
whom I next consulted* dis- 
claimed the title of orator 
and the presumption of 
giving advice as to the 
method of becoming an 
orator, an orator being born 
and not made, 

" Nevertheless," Mr. 
Lowther said, however, 
" one can become a fluent 
and agreeable speaker by 
dint of practice. He should 
begin young, never lose an 
opportunity of saying a few 
words in public, carefully prepare the matter 
and form of his speech, cultivate con- 
ciseness, keep a stock of good stories in 
hand from which to draw as occasion requires, 
give special atten- 
tion to the head 
find tail of his 
speech , and arrange 
his subject in 
logical or chrono- 
logical order. 

" It is desirable 
at first to speak 
from pretty full 
notes; these 
should gradually 
be cut down to 
a few headings, 
until they can 
finally he dispensed 


with. Brevity is, above all, the greatest 
desideratum, The audience should be left 
hungry with a desire for more, and not 
surfeited with a sense of repletion. 

lt Variety of style/' con- 
cluded Mr. Lowther, "is an 
accomplishment to be added 
later Voice production is 
also a matter which requires 
special attention. Action, 
in the sense of gesticula- 
tion, should be sparsely 
used, but when used it 
should be bold and sweep- 

Lord Kim her ley was kind 
enough to interest himself 
in the subject when con- 
valescent at Falmouth after 
his long illness of last winter. 
The Leader of the Opposition 
in the House of Lords, 
however, confined himself to 
a statement of his own 
method; he would not venture upon advice 
to others* 

" I never write a speech," his lordship told 
me. u If it is a long and important one I 

make a few very 
brief notes. 

"Otherwise I 
make no notes. I 
speak practically 
without any pre- 
vious preparation, 
trusting to my 
general k now I ed ge 
of the subject. 
My method is 
the one which a 
(now) long ex- 
perience has 
shown me suits 
me best" 

i_oj?i> KiaimcRMCY. 

by Google 

Original from 

•JgW JJrt^o 

LTHOUGH John Stebbens 
said nothing, standing there 
on the bridge beside the kind 
captain* yet he was much 
disappointed that the old 
tramp steamer should have 
thrashed her slow way into the Bay of Naples 
li night. All respectable guide-books 
warned all respectable travellers to select a 
steamer that arrived at Naples by day, but 
Stebbens was on board the ancient rusty 
Gladiaiar through favour of one of the 
owners, and the voyage was costing him 
nothing. Once the Gladiaior carried passen- 
gers, and even now would have accommo- 
dated a dozen or so had that limited number 
applied for berths, but the big liners to 
the Mediterranean, keeping to a time- 
table like express trains, had absorbed the 
tourist traffic, and an old- fashioned single 
screw craft t doing barely nine knots an hour 
under the most propitious auspices, never 
certain of arriving at any particular place at 
any panicular time, could not hope to hold 
her own in such a competition ; yet she was 
in ihe habit of thumping out a steady id 
percent, profit for her owners, carrying slow 
and heavy freight, and thus we may suppose 
they were satisfied 

Stebbens had come aboard at Liverpool in 
a snowstorm, and here he stood on the 
bridge apparently in a clean niild midsummer 
nighty just as if the boat had taken six months 

to make the trip; 
but, slow as she 
was, she was not 
so slow as that. 
He had come 
on board pale 
and stooped with 
Study, and al- 
ready ocean and 
sea had proved 
the best of physi- 
cians. He had 
come on board 
friendless, and 
now was leaving 
the bluff, sea- 
soned, mahogany - coloured captain with 
infinite regret ; cheered, however, by the 
prospect of returning to England with him 
five or six weeks later. 

The engines had stopped, and now, at a 
gruff word from the captain, there was a sharp 
clank, a hurricane roar of descending chain, 
and the sudden plunge of the great anchor 
into the dark water : then the ship swung 
slowly round and all was silence. 

" Well, we're here at last, John," cried the 
captain, with a sigh of relief. "Sorry I 
could not have fetched port in daylight, but 
you'll see it all in the morning, so take my 
advice and get to your bunk. No need of 
going ashore to-night, for if your room isn't 
as large or as comfortable as you'd get at an 
hotel, it's a mighty sight cheaper and quieter. 
So ? good - night ; see you in the morning/' 
Whereupon John turned in. 

His had been a case of breakdown : 
physical, educational, and financial His 
object in life was to graduate from a cheap 
theological college in the north of England, 
He had managed to squeeze through three 
examinations, each tunc with a warning that 
he must do better in the essential Latin on 
the next occasion if he hoped to prosper. 
The result of the fourth trial, just finished 
before his voyage began, would not be 
known to him for some weeks yet P but he 
had the most gloomy forebodings regarding 
it. His body suffered. I iom the consequences 




of overstudy, without the compensating ad- 
vantage of his mind being any more 
thoroughly equipped for the task it had 
undertaken. In spite of his efforts he had 
fallen behind his fellows in the educational 
race, and his college had ceased to regard 
him as a student likely to do it honour, or 
even to pass with credit to himself. The 
financial resources which appeared ample 
when he began his college life had melted 
more rapidly than he anticipated, and should 
his career as a theological student be pro- 
longed, as was novv inevitable, they threatened 
to become as exhausted as his physical vigour. 
The outlook, therefore, was gloomy enough, 
and perhaps the ensuing languor had some- 
thing to do with his failure in supreme 
exultation over a tender episode which, con- 
sidering his youth, might have been expected 
to occupy the foremost place in his thoughts. 
This was his betrothal to Miss Olcutt, the 
eldest daughter of six who called Simeon 
Olcutt father, a sombrely religious man, who 
was one of the patrons of the theological 
school which young Stebbens attended. This 
man had certain interests in the shipping 
trade; hence his ability to send Stebbens 
fare-free on a tramp steamer — a deed of 
generosity that cost Olcutt nothing and was 
not the less readily performed on that 
account, if what his employes said was true ; 
for they held him generous only to the college 
that his "deeds might shine before men. 
Olcutt's five younger daughters were married, 
and the eldest busied herself much with vari- 
ous good works, the welfare of the college being 
the principal. Thus she became acquainted 
with, and ultimately engaged to, John Steb- 
bens, for her ambition was to be a clergy- 
man's wife, and experience seemed to have 
taught her they must be caught young. Miss 
Olcutt was gifted with a talent for interfering 
in the affairs of other people, always for the 
benefit of other people, although human 
nature is so perverse that the beneficiaries 
often failed to appreciate this, and said 
unkind things ; as, for instance, that the cul- 
mination of her latest idyll came about 
through her own courtship of the young man 
rather than through inordinate aspiration and 
ardour on his part. The arrangement, how- 
ever, was an admirable one from whatever 
point of view it was examined. Miss 
Olcutt was to obtain a husband much 
younger than herself, and a clergyman if he 
ever prospered with his Latin ; she brought 
into the compact a ripe knowledge of the 
world and a quantity of that despised wealth 
which vounu men have found useful from 

Digitized by dOOglC 

ancient times up to the present moment. 
She had a genius for management, and 
Stebbens was a most manageable young man. 
The father was not particularly enthusiastic 
over his daughter's choice, but the lady was 
quite old enough to know her own mind, and 
there seemed a danger that the quest of her 
life was like to remain unfulfilled if longer 
postponed, so the worthy man shrugged his 
shoulders and offered no opposition. 

The young student, discouraged by repeated 
failure and ill through overstudy, would 
have abandoned his chosen profession and 
taken to something else that did not call 
for Latin, but Miss Olcutt was not thus 
easily going to be berefit q( her clergyman 
now that she had him, as one might say, 
in embryo, so she arranged the Italian 
trip to the satisfaction of everyone concerned. 
Among her many enviable qualities was 
that of a strong determination not readily 
thwarted, and, indeed, her plans were so 
invariably the best that a person must have 
been more than reckless even to criticise 
them — a truth of which no one was so alertly 
conscious as Miss Olcutt herself. The Italian 
scheme is a case in point. First, the voyage 
would cost nothing to either her father or 
Stebbens. Second, the latter would be 
landed in a portion of Europe where living is 
cheap. Third, the mild climate would benefit 
his health. Fourth, he could study the living 
Italian, and this would aid him with the dead 
Latin. In fact, here were four birds felled 
with the one stone, thus doubly excelling the 
adage, and, at the same time, showing how 
resourceful a woman Miss Olcutt was. For- 
tunate the man distinguished by her regard, 
and as that man must catch the Capr: 
steamer which leaves at 9 a.m., and must 
have his breakfast before he goes aboard — 
for there is nothing to be had in the way of 
meals on the Capri boat— we will take the 
liberty of waking him early just as if he ^yete 
Queen of the May. 

The bluff, sympathetic captain, who had 
taken to the theological boy as if he were 
his own son (perhaps because the captain 
was in the habit of swearing so dreadfully 
when irritated, hence had a liking for his 
opposite), gave him final admonition at the 
hastened breakfast, the two being alone 
together, as had been the case during the 
voyage. The captain talked like a second 
Polonius, and the youth listened deferentially, 
as was his ingratiating habit — a habit appre- 
ciated by loquacious men. 

ki Now, John, the ship's boat will take you 
right aboard the Capri steamer. Don't pay 





nnv attention to those howling boatmen 
outside Tm glad you've taken my advice 
to settle in Capri, instead of staying in 
Naples as you first intended. It's a delightful 
island inhabited by a delightful people. No 
wounds in the back as in Corsica, and no 
knife between the ribs as in Sicily. There 
hasn't been a killing in Capri for a hundred 
yenrs, but one, and that was a love affair. 
No sneaking revenge there. Nobody ever 
thinks of locking a door in Capri. When 
jou get to the landing hire a cab to take you 
tip to the Piazza. (live the man a franc for 
the ride and threepence for himself. They 
. call a franc a lire there, hut it's the same 
thing. Then get a boy to guide you to 
old Marelli's ; everybody on the island knows 
him, and give him my letter. Don't make 
any mistake about Marelli, if you don't 
happen to find him fashionably dressed. 
He's a good man and well off, who makes 
about the best wine on the island. And 
remember that if be takes you into bis house 
and gives you a room there, it will be as a 
favour to me, for he is not in the habit of 
accepting even paying guests. We're a great 
people, of course, but we fall into the error 
of underestimating the foreigner. You're 
young, so don't you do that- I've called in 
at many a port in this world and never failed 
to find a good man at even the worst 
of 'em. Marelli's a good man, Now, you 
just live as the family lives, and talk 
|o them all you can. You'll be a chatter- 
ing Italian before you know it, because 
learning Italian is as easy as for an inquisitive 
passenger to fall down a hatchway. Don't 
go to no blooming professor of the language, 

Digiliz&d by CiOOQ lc 

for he'll charge 
you a lot and 
learn you nothing. 
Of course, you 
see, the more 
ignorant he keeps 
you the more 
money he makes 
out of you, but 
you jabber to the 
natives every 
chance you get 
and avoid all 
those who speak 
English; that's 
the way to learn 
a foreign lingo. 
Terracotta and 
Co, are our agents 
in Naples, and 
Til tell 'em to 
let you know in good time when the old 
Gladiator is due in the bay again. Marelli's 
youngest daughter was a bright little chick of 
five or six last time I was on the island, who 
would babble away from daylight till dark. 
If she hasn't lost the gift of the gab 
since then, which is not likely, I'd choose 
her for a teacher if I were you. If 
she takes to you you'll be the best Italian 
scholar on Capri before the boat sails away 
from Naples again* So be a good boy, don't 
study too hard, ramble over the recks, learn 
to row a boat Mediterranean fashion, and get 
some colour into your cheeks and that stoop 
out of your back." 

John Stebbens was genuinely sorry to bid 
good-bye to the captain and to quit the 
comfortable old ship, but new and strange 
scenes speedily mitigated the poignancy of 
the parting. He w ? as received with quiet 
hospitality into the Marelli household, made 
welcome for the sake of the captain, who 
was still well remembered at many minor 
ports along the Mediterranean, where, in the 
old days, he had traded not only fairly but 
with courtesy, despite his bluntness. 

The room allotted to Stebbens was lar^e, 
and situated at the top of the great, rambling 
house. It was an ideal place for study, as 
quiet and secluded as if he were the only 
inhabitant of the island. The windows 
faced full south, and gave a wonderful view 
over an intricate garden dotted with yellow 
oranges ; then across an olive orchard, whose 
pale-green foliage gave the impression that 
moonlight was continually shining upon it j 
alter that the sloping vineyard, and last, the 
towering diffa, -of ..reddish-brown rock, and 




the widespread intense blue of the sea, the 
horizon line lost in a dreamy haze tinted from 
pearl to purple, varying with the time of the 
day or change in the weather. And vivifying 
all, the warm sun and the cloudless sky, as if 
such things as a fog or a drizzle never touched 
this radiant earth. No wonder the grateful 
islanders worshipped Mithras, the sun-god, 
in times gone by ; the problem was, rather, 
why they did not do so still. 

From this spacious room a door gave him 
egress to a flat, red-tiled roof, surrounded by 
a white parapet less than breast high ; then a 
narrow stone stairway descended to a still 
lower roof, and from that some steps led down 
to a balcony, and so round the house, every 
elevated promenade with its own amazing 
view, each differing from the others, bewilder- 
ing the stranger with the difficulty of choosing 
the most attractive. A final flight of steps 
conducted one to the garden and a pergola, 
two rows of white columns, supporting over- 
head a green framework, along which 
clambered and twined a wilderness of rose 
vines ; and so stepping down and down from 
his lofty apartment he could reach pergola, 
garden, orchard, and vineyard, ultimately 
attaining the sea, if he were a cliff-climber 
and had a steady head. 

It was on the morning of his second day 
at Capri that he saw for the first time his 
future teacher of the soft Italian tongue. 
He had come down from roof to roof and at 
last to the pergola, at the farther end of 
which, standing tiptoe on the balustrade, and 
reaching above her head, clipping roses from 
their stems, he saw the girl who had been 
five or six when the captain was last on the 
island. A rapid mental calculation assured 
the young man that this visit had taken 
place twelve or thirteen years before. Having 
secured the number of blossoms she required, 
the young woman sprang lightly down to the 
* tiled court, turned round, and could hardly 
help noting that she was apparently an object 
of much interest to a youth standing awe- 
struck at the other end of this avenue of 
white pillars. Simultaneously they advanced 
towards each other and met in the middle of 
the pergola, the warm sunlight filtering down 
through leaves and branches on their heads. 

" Good morning, signor," she greeted him 
in Italian ; he had learned that much at 
least of the language from the captain, so 
he understood her and returned the greeting 
with an accent that brought a smile to her 
ripe red lips. She handed him a rose, but 
seeing he did not know what to do with it, 
standing there awkwardly holding it, she took 

Digitized by Lt< 

it from him again with a little laugh and 
pinned it daintily to the lapel of his coat. 
Then, with an inimitable, airy gesture of the 
hands, and a " There now ! " she stepped 
back, contemplating him as an artist who has 
put the last deft touch to a picture, and the 
result seemed to please her ; for Stebbens was 
a good-looking young fellow, who had been 
somewhat suppressed all his life by adverse 
circumstances and by dominating people, so 
now blushed like a girl or like the rose that 
his downcast eyes regarded in its new 
position. She was as unconventionally 
friendly as if she had still numbered only 
the six years the captain remembered. 

Suddenly, as if recollecting something 
urgent, she darted away from him and dis- 
appeared into the house, leaving him there 
with his mind in an unaccountable whirl as 
delicious as it was unusual. How pretty she 
was ! How liquid her voice ! How dazzling 
the swift glance of her laughing, dark eyes ! 
The unrestrained ardour of a child with the 
superb, completed form of a woman produced 
a combination that might disturb the com- 
placency of Saint Anthony himself, patron of 
all Capri fishermen, whose chapel stood on 
the southern edge of the island, convenient 
for preaching to the fishes, but distant from 
the haunts of the women, which showed some 
wisdom in the selection of a site on the part 
of the cautious Antonius. Could not the 
unimpressionable saint now bestow a season- 
able hint upon this youth that the paths of 
Capri are steep and dangerous, leading to 
unexpected precipices? All men are not 
adamant. It seemed, indeed, that this very 
warning was the watchful saint's intention, 
for the girl whisked again into the pergola 
and handed the young man a letter. 

" It came last night," she explained, and 
then, perched on the parapet, swinging her 
small foot to and fro, arranging the flowers 
to her satisfaction, she hummed an air, that 
he might read his correspondence untram- 
melled by any thought that he was neglecting 
her. He turned the letter over and over in 
his hand, recognising at once its angular 
superscription. It had been sent in care of 
the steamship agents in Naples, and by them 
forwarded to Capri, doubtless through the 
thoughtfulness of the captain in giving them 
his address, and perhaps not by the inter- 
vention of Saint Anthony at all. Miss 
Olcutt had said she would write to him 
every three days and send him a copy 
of the Church Times once a week, that 
he might not lack for wholesome reading. 
He slipped the 1 tetter unopened into his 

_■ I I L| 1 1 I Q I 





pocket with a sigh, at which the girl 
looked up with a smile and sprang from 
her perch to the floor. They * wandered 
together through the garden, down under the 
olive trees, between the rows of vines, and 
finally came to a wall, over which they leaned 
looking far below them into the clear green 
water of the waveless sea, sparkling in the 
sunshine. He learned that her name was 
Lucia, and progressed so far with his Italian 
at any rate, but whether the knowledge 
gained that morning would assist him 
materially in his next scholarly examination 
was quite another matter, 

This outdoor lesson was the first of many 
such, and let Saint Antonius scowl as he may, 
he is hereby assured that language learning 
makes more progress when taught by sweet 
lips that laugh when mistakes are uttered 
than by thin, professorial lips which say 
sarcastic things with a sneer. Perhaps our 
colleges would be more popular than they 
are if pretty girls were the preceptors* Of 
course a man does not become an adept in 
even so easy a language as the Italian in a 
month, be he much cleverer than was young 
Stebbens ; but John could carry on a con- 
versation haltingly in the tongue, sometimes 
making himself vaguely understood, some 
times not understood at all, until he appealed 
from the attractively arrayed living lexicon to 

Digitized by G* ^ 

the more sombrely attired dictionary bound 
in boards, 

Signorina . Lucia Marelli was certainly a 
fascinating teacher, and the method of tuition 
was most alluring, instruction being imparted 
as professor and pupil walked together along 
one of the three hundred and sixty five paths 
which Capri offers to her visitors, each by-way 
seemingly more picturesque than the other ; 
each separate day of the year having a road 
for itself. 

But at lasj, somewhat late in the day, the 
very sweetness of this intercourse began to 
trouble him, the most conscientious of men. 
His own growing desire to be constantly 
with the girl, and her no less evident pleasure 
in his companionship, caused him anxious 
searchings of heart. A more conceited 
person, or one with a greater knowledge of life, 
would have seen long before that Lucia was 
in love with him. Rut he had so little self- 
esteem that he could not understand why 
any woman should care for him, and, in 
truth, neither can I, for hu was anything 
but clever, and not very much more than 
passably good-looking : but the ways of the 
feminine mind are past understanding, and 
the fact remains that a lady in England 
was engaged to him and a girl in Italy was 
quite ready to be, while talented people 

like vou or-,me. ai-e^alas ! often ignored by 




the sex. Perhaps it was his sterling honesty 
that carried such havoc among them ; his 
devotion to duty ; his conscientious industry ; 
his evidently excellent intentions probably 
overshadowed his equally obvious incom- 
petence. Books tell us that perseverance 
is certain to succeed, which is not at all true ; 
but it may be that faith is stronger than 
reason in woman, and at least two of them 
seemed to believe in John Stebbens, who had 
such limited belief in himself. 

This conscientiousness, aroused too late, 
spurred him to action. He saw he was there 
under false pretences ; he was not a free 
man, and must tell her so as diplomatically 
as he could. Her preference for him, if it 
really existed, of which he had still some 
doubts, would be modified by the announce- 
ment he felt it his duty to make, and thus a 
girlish fancy would not grow into anything 
more serious. 

The spot selected for the necessary confi- 
dence was ominous. She had taken him 
along a rugged path to the lofty Fern Grotto, 
a Gothic cavern in the mountain-side, high 
above the sea, facing the east, and com- 
manding a wonderful view of the castle, the 
Faraglioni rocks rising like cathedral spires 
from the waves, part of the old town and the 
villa of Tiberius in the distant sky. The 
name " Fern " applied to the Gfotto is harm- 
less and horticultural, and the place itself is 
warm and sunny, an excellent spot in which 
to while away an hour, learning Italian, view- 
ing the scenery, or in any other occupation ; 
nevertheless, the Grotto was the ancient 
dwelling-place of the Sirens, whose gentle 
voices lured men to their undoing, and of 
whom Homer sang : — 

U ablest the man whom music wins to stay 
Nigh the curst shore and listen to* the lay. 

Neither John nor Lucia thought of Homer, 
or, indeed, knew much about him, as they 
sat together in the elevated cave he cele- 
brated, the first being occupied with thoughts 
of his coming announcement and the deftest 
form of disclosure ; the second, seeming well 
satisfied to view a scene exceedingly familiar 
to her, with elbow resting on knee and chin 
in hand gazing dreamily at the prospect. 

" I have not long to stay in Capri now," 
began John, haltingly, in the best Italian at 
his command ; " but, if all goes well, I hope 
to return some day with my wife." 

If he expected a start of surprise, an 
exclamation of dismay, he was disappointed, 
and glancirg sidelong at her he saw she 
remained motionless, the eyes perhaps a trifle 
more dreamy, a slight roseate glow slowly 


overspreading her face as if the warm rays of 
the setting sun, striking the ruddy rocks 
before her, had thrown the stain of their 
reflection upon her. It was going to be an 
easier task than he had anticipated, yet 
somehow the sigh w f hich escaped him was 
not one of entire satisfaction. 

Not to make an unnecessary mystery of 
the situation, it may be noted at this point 
that he mixed up his prepositions and used 
"for" instead of "with," a stupid mistake 
that had little to excuse it, as the two small 
words are as unlike in the Italian as they are 
in the English. " I will return to Capri for 
my wife," he actually said, when he thought 
he was proclaiming his intention to return 
with her. This misleading substitution of 
one seemingly unimportant little word for 
another gave a false key-note to the Siren 
song which was to follow. The girl naturally 
thought he was to return for her; she imagined 
she was on the threshold of her first proposal, 
and even if his confused statement that he 
owed much to a woman who had something 
to do with his education had been more 
clear than was actually the case, she might 
well have been excused, knowing nothing of 
any other, for thinking that she was the 
woman he referred to. She had taught him 
the Italian he was mangling, and there was 
no reasou to suspect that she was not the 
person he hoped to marry in fulness of time. 
And besides all this, they were in the Grotto 
of the Sirens, where men's crushed bones 
have been found, and from which no man 
ever escaped unscathed. 

When he had finished his further hesitat- 
ing* g r °pi n g oration he was surprised at the 
result of his eloquence. The blushing girl 
threw her arms about his neck, drew his head 
down to her, and kissed him full on the lips, 
an action which sent a thrill through his 
body such as had never followed the chaste 
salutes of the austere Miss Olcutt, The 
swift, clinging contact opened to him a new- 
heaven and a new earth, that filled him with 
sudden delight, and wafted his senses soaring 
aloft ; but duty, stern and menacing, brought 
them down to the world again, and he 
realized with a spasm of pain the seductive 
danger of the situation, without in the least 
suspecting its cause. After that first linger- 
ing kiss she buried her warm face in his 
neck, and remained thus silent and quiescent. 

And now ignorance, that bright guiding star 
of the Anglo-Saxon in his relation with 
foreigners, came to his rescue. 

" These impulsive Italians are not as 7tr 
are," he said to himself. " This agitating 





demonstration i s merely the expression of a 
sisterly affection on hearing that the most 
important event in the life of a beloved 
brother is fixed and settled," 

That seemed a most satisfactory inference, 
and it soothed the young man, without; 
exactly consoling him. In fact, he was in an 
embarrassingly perturbed state of mind, sorry 
for himself that things were not as they 
seemed, knowing he must do his duty, certain 
he would do it, wishing the path of honour 
had not become so thorny to his feeL 

When they left the fateful Grotto she took 
his hand, and they walked thus in silence 
until they approached the haunts of man, and 
then she released it, lingeriugly loth to do so, 
and at last came to her father's house. She 
spoke rapidly to her parents, laughed 
nervously, and ran precipitately away, leaving 
him standing there alone with them, his face 
quite as red as hers. He could not follow 
what she had so glibly said, but gathered 
that it was something about his betrothal, 
and the additional publicity seemed somehow 
rather unnecessary. The old man, always 


silent, merely rose and shook him by 
the hand, as was right and proper, 
but the girl's mother impulsively 
caught him by the shoulders and 
kissed him first on one check, then 
on the other. So John got at last 
to his room, dazed and bewildered. 

But there was worse to follow, an 
ordeal very trying to a retiring, un- 
assuming young fellow, who shrank 
from demonstration and undue fuss. 
Next evening in the large room 
downstairs there was a gathering ol 
kinsfolk and personal friends of the 
Marelji family. Lucia came laugh- 
ingly for him and insisted that he 
should go down with her and receive 
their congratulations* 

"Good gracious, Lucia,'' he cried, 
u you haven't told everybody on the 
island about it, have you ? " 

u Why not?" exclaimed the aston- 
ished girL "If you wanted it kept 
secret, why did you not tell me so ? " 
" Kut it has nothing to do with 
them. Still, I suppose it doesn't 
really matter, so I'll go with you," 

Lucia, not knowing what to make 
of his unexpected reluctance, led 
him to the company, and felicita- 
tions were showered upon them, 
although some of the young men 
were not too cordial; for Lucia 
had plenty of suitors, and to see 
her thus snatched from them by a "forester " 
was not the happy event to them that the girl 
teemed to regard it. The Italians call all 
foreigners li forest i ere," that is, bushmen, 
savages from the woods, recognising no 
culture or civilization outside of Italy, a 
curious self-conceit which we are all more or 
less afflicted with, terming it patriotism and 
the like. They appeared somewhat sullenly 
to agree with me that there is no accounting 
for feminine taste. 

One man, bearing the same name as the 
host and a nephew of his, watched the 
manner of the accepted lover narrowly and 
was not pleased with it. He was a man in 
business on the island, who had travelled and 
wh^ spoke English well. He knew more of 
the world than any other present, and there 
was something secretive and sneak isli about 
the attitude of Stebbens that displeased him. 
The youth had the bearing of one unex- 
pectedly forced out into the light of a 
publicity he dreaded, and the conclusions 
drawn by his watcher were of a sombre and 

discreditable nature. He said nothing until 
Original from 




the ceremony was finished and the guests 
dispersed, then he asked Stebbens to walk 
up to the village with him. When they were 
well clear of the house and alone in the dark, 
narrow lane Marelli said, abruptly, to his 
companion : — 

u When did this engagement take 
place ? " 

"About two years ago," answered the 
innocent Stebbens. 

" Two years ago ! " exclaimed his ques- 
tioner, coming to a standstill. "Two years 
ago ! I thought you were never on the 
island before this visit?" 

" Neither was I." 

" And you are here now for the first time 
about a month ? " 

14 Yes." 

" Then what are you talking about ? 
How could you have become betrothed to 
Signorina Lucia two years. ago?" 

" I never said I was betrothed to the 
signorina," cried the young man, with natural 
indignation, his heart sinking with an un- 
known dread all the same. Even in the 
darkness he saw the sinister lowering of the 
Italian's brow. 

" Then what is the meaning of all this 
fooling? How did my cousin come to 
suppose herself engaged to you ?" 

14 She cannot suppose such a thing. 1 am 
to be married to a lady in England. I told 
the signorina so myself." 

44 You are either a scoundrel or a simpleton. 
You pretend, then, not to have understood 
that to-night's ceremony was your formal 
engagement to Signorina Lucia, a girl a 
thousand times too good for the like of 

44 You horrify me," cried the distressed 
young man. 4< I give you my word of honour 
it is all a most deplorable mistake." 

44 A mistake, is it ? Well, it is a mistake 
you will have to rectify very quickly or it will 
be the worse for you." 

44 1 will make every explanation and 
apology," cried Stebbens, almost on the verge 
of tears. 4 * I see how it happened now. It 
is all the fault of my lack of skill with the 
language. I am very, very sorry." 

44 This is not a thing that can be settled by 
words. You cannot shame my cousin before 
the whole island and then get out of it by 
saying it was all a mistake. You must marry 
the girl." 

"That is impossible, I tell you." 

"Oh, I don't think so. You must not 
return there. Come with me and Til give 
you a room in my house. Til have your 

Digitized by dOOQ IC 

handbag sent to you within half an hour. 
You will be my guest utitil you are married." 

44 It is useless. I cannot go with you. I 
must be in Naples to-morrow." 

44 Come along." 

The nephew was a powerful man. He 
grasped young Stebbens by the wrist, and 
led him without difficulty. They passed 
through narrow lanes with high stone walls 
on either hand, meeting no one. The leader 
opened a door that looked ominously strong, 
and so into a dark, semi-subterranean hall, 
then up two flights of steps and into a room 
overlooking a flat roof and an orange garden. 

44 You will find this very comfortable, I 
think," said the self-imposed host, with 

Stebbens rubbed his aching wrist with 
rising indignation at this high handed treat- 

" Do you expect to hold me a prisoner 
here against my will ? " he cried. 

" Not at all. We never lock our doors in 
Capri. You are perfectly free to go when 
and where you please. I thought I was 
doing you a favour, for I was told you hadn't 
much money. I cannot understand why my 
uncle should have consented to the absurd 
choice of Lucia, but he has done so, and 
that is enough for me. If you don't like this 
room you may go to any hotel you choose. 
There are plenty Of them." 

44 I'm going to Naples in the morning." 

The Italian shrugged his shoulders as if 
the young man's future movements were n 
matter of indifference to him, and left tie 
room without further comment. 

Stebbens sat down with his head in his 
hands, deeply grieved that his clumsiness had 
brought unmerited sorrow upon one whom 
he liked so well and who had been so 
sweetly kind to him. Still, there was nothing 
for him to do but to keep his word, although 
the path of duty had become increasingly 
unattractive to him for some time past His 
valise was brought in, but he remained in 
his despondent attitude. He could not go 
to an hotel, for he had no money to spare, 
as the other had quite accurately hinted. 

Courage returned with daylight. He would 
take the early boat, get to Naples, and from 
there write a long, explanatory letter to 
Lucia. She at least would understand, 
doubtless forgive, and perhaps pity. He felt 
himself rather more in need of pity than of 
forgiveness. As his host had said the evening 
before, no locked doors impeded him. The 
way was clear, and he walked to the Piazza 
valise in hand. Anxious to be on board the 




steamer as speedily as possible, even at the 
expenditure of a lire, he hailed a cab, but the 
coachmen, usually so eager for fares, showed 
no celerity at the prospect of his custom. 
One and all shook their heads. They were 
engaged. There was no time to waste, so he 
turned into the tunnel under the clock-tower 
and went rapidly down the steep stone steps. 
Already the steamer had whistled once- The 
path led between high walls, and at one of 
the numerous turns he 
came unexpectedly upon a 
man he had never seen 
before, but who was quite 
palpably waiting for him- 
The man had a long 
knife in his hand, 
and he was whiling 
away the time by 
twirling it in the air 
and catching it very 
deftly by the handle 
as it descended. 
He ceased this 
amusement as Steb- 
bens descended 
upon h tm f and stood 
in the middle of the 
narrow pathway* 

H Where are you 
going, signore?" 

u To the Marina," 
answered Stebbens. ^ 
coming to an en- 
forced standstill. 

"Oh, no. It is 
much pleasa nter at 
the town in the 
winter. The signore will 

u Do you mean to 
threaten me ? " deman- 
ded Stebbens, angrily, 

"The signore will 
return," repeated the 
Italian, with a smile. 
" I will carry the bag." 

The signore did return. It was an 
absurd situation, of course, but there 
was no help for it. He had some 
wild notion of appealing to whosover 
he met in the Piazza, but when he 
reached this little square he felt 
this would merely succeed in making him 
more ridiculous than ho already was. Every- 
body was so beamingly pleasant. The 
cabmen, with laughter, offered him boister- 
ously the use of their vehicles, but the 
steamer was already , moving away from the 

Vol. **iu-3S* 

by Google 

island, and there would not be another 
departing boat until three in the afternoon. 
The brigand w T ho had stopped him in 
the lane was now merely an inoffensive 
porter who carried the valise with humble 
deference, his knife concealed. There 
was a touch of opera -bouffe about the 
whole situation that filled young Stebbens 
with dumb, hopeless resentment. It was 
an incredible thing that a free - born 
Briton should be interfered w f ith, baffled, 
and held practically a prisoner without 
process of law in a celebrated 
centre of civilization fre- 
quented by his countrymen, 
and yet here it was being 
done with the utmost good 
nature, if we except the 
episode of the knife. Never- 
theless, the thought of the 
afternoon boat brought en- 
couragement By that time 
the streets would be full of 
people promenading. The 
Marina would be 
thronged with Eng- 
lish and Americans 
departing. No man 
would dare draw a 
knife in that crowd, 
He would go boldly 
to the Marina by 
the broad main 
road and not 
through the more 
direct narrow lane, 
frequented mostly 
by the islanders, 
At the first sign of 
molestation he 
would cry aloud 
and gather round 
him all within hear- 
ing who spoke his 
own tongue, then 
there would be an 
end to this illegal 
detention. He had 
unlimited faith in 
the sense of justice and the 
courage of those who spoke 
English. His conjectures 
proved to be well - founded. 
Starting boldly forth in ample time to walk 
slowly to the port, Stebbens found himself in 
a reassuring atmosphere of his own language. 
The natives he met scowled at him, but no 
one ventured to retard his progress. All the 
same, his heart beat rapidly and he clung to 





the outskirts of a party speaking his own 
tongue and going his way. 

The little pier and breakwater were 
crowded with a laughing, chattering, merry 
throng, as is always the case when the 
afternoon steamer sails away. Porters with 
*age, loudly vociferating, rushed here 
►re. The steamer lay placidly in the 
-bS^pftej- funnel emulating the cone of dis- 
tant* Vesuvius. Small white boats with red 
cushions took on passengers at the stone steps 
and were rowed out to the steamer. Almost 
breathless with the dramatic tension of the 
moment, Stebbens walked along the jetty. 
The boatman grabbed his valise, flung it 
airily into the prow, and held out his hand to 
assist the young man into the heaving craft. 
But as Stebbens stepped too eagerly aboard 
the boat swung out a little fron^ the pier, 
enough in itself to have caused a mischance, 
which was rendered complete by a clumsy 
hurrying porter staggering against the victim. 
There was a loud splash, a cry of " Man 
overboard," and a scream from some ladies 
in the boat and on the jetty. The water 
was clear as air, and deep enough to cover 
the head of a tall man standing in it. There 
could be no peril, for there was no lack of 
assistance; indeed, the only danger seemed 
to lie in the prompt multiplicity of help, ior 
six islanders instantaneously plunged to the 
rescue, one alighting squarely on the shoulders 
of the struggling man and beaiing him again 
to the bottom. At first the struggle was 
comical, too many cooks and all of them 
in the broth ; but by-and-by the contest 
began to look serious. A stentorian English- 
man on the pier shouted forth : — 

"You will drown the man between you. 
Let all but two come out. Somebody put 
that in Italian, and quickly, or there will be 
a tragedy." 

A cool-headed Italian took charge, and 
speedily brought order out of the hullabaloo. 
It was the younger Marelli, nephew of the 
old man. The excited islanders came drip- 
ping up the steps, supporting the limp form 
of the unfortunate youth. The ever-ready 
flask of the Englishman was put to his pale 
lips, and he revived slightly. 

" He will be all right in an hour. I'll 
look after him," said the sympathetic Marelli 
as he took off his own overcoat and wrapped 
it round the shivering Stebbens, an act of 
kindness much appreciated by the foreign 
bystanders, who made eulogistic remarks 
about the good-heartedness of the Capri 
people. The young man was taken to a 
ready cab, every waiting coachman lending 

by LiOOgle 

wraps for his comfort. The English-speaking 
people who had witnessed this scene of un- 
selfish heroism got up a subscription on the 
spot for the men who had submerged them- 
selves, and as this was being distributed among 
them the rattling cab was conveying Stebbens 
back to the village again, accompanied by 
his host, who put him to bed and gave him 
something strong to drink when they reached 
the room he had so hopefully left a short 
time before. Next morning Stebbens was 
feverish, and threatened with an attack of ill- 
ness, but they tended him assiduously, and 
there were no permanent bad effects from his 
attempt to open the bathing season in Capri 
too early in the year. The nephew was 
invariably kind, and gave the young man 
soothing advice. 

"There is no use in trying to get away by 
the steamer again. It is bound to fail. 
You see, it is never the same people who leave 
by that boat, and the trick can be done as 
often as you care to be the chief performer. 
Of course, if done twice before the same 
people they might suspect that the ducking 
was not accidental, but they are all strangers, 
here for a day, unimaginative folks, who would 
not believe you if you told them the truth. 
This sort of thing is contrary to law, and 
therefore impossible from their point of view. 
If a countryman did listen to you he'd 
merely think you were engaged in a low 
intrigue and were trying to escape the con- 
sequences. He'd despise you for being 
played with in this way, and would likely 
refuse to involve himself in your quarrel, even 
if he had the time to stay and attend to it. 
I never liked you nor pretended to, but if 
Lucia wants you she's going to have you — 
make up your mind to that." 

More and more the difficulty of adequately 
explaining the situation to some incredulous 
stranger oppressed the sensitive young man. 
The story would be received either lyith 
laughter or distrust. When able to be about 
again he haunted the Marina, but never 
ventured on the breakwater. He tried in- 
effectually to bribe boatmen to convey him 
aboard from various points of the island. 
He wandered unmolested along the shore, 
north and south, and once nearly eluded the 
unceasing but generally invisible vigilance. 
On the south side one evening he hailed a 
fishing-boat and found the crew belonged to 
the mainland. The captain offered to land 
him at Positano for ten francs. They had 
hardly left the shadow of the island when he 
saw with dismay an eight-oared boat rapidly 
overtaking the craft he was in. His own 




rowers saw it too and stopped work. He 
urged them to proceed, offered all the money 
he possessed, but they shook their heads. 
The biy, boat came alongside, and after a few 
words from the man in command to the 
captain of the fishers the 
discomfited youth was 
transferred from one boat 
to the other, the captain 
of the Positano boat sud- 
denly failing to under- 
standStebbens's language 
when he demanded at 
ieast the re- 
turn of his ten 
francs. He 
was landed in 
deep despond- 
ency at the 
Grand Marina, 
and walked in 
the gloom 
again to the 
room that al- 
ways awaited 
him. A copy 
of the Church 
Times had 
arrived by the 
evening mail, 
and lay on his 
table. He 
read its en- 
livening pages 
lately, and his 
thoughts float- 
ed back to 
England and 
to her who had 
sent the paper 
to him e very 
week. What 
must they 
think of him 
in England by 
this time? His 

failure to keep his appointment with the 
friendly captain at Naples troubled him more 
than, perhaps, anything else. He hated 
people to be disappointed in him, yet he was 
always disappointing everyone with whom he 
came into contact He tried to write a letter 
to Miss Okutt, but could not do it, for he 
felt her severe, uncompromising eye upon 
him, An attempted letter to the captain 
was also a failure, for the captain was a 
friend of old Marelli, and somehow all 

'iMmffifitifffBffffMML*-- 'VjJf-^sT^v 


explanations seemed even more unconvincing 
on paper than they did by word of mouth. 

It would be futile to follow his unsuccess- 
ful efforts to reach the mainland The 
M Giro " had elements of comedy in it that 
were entirely unappreciated by him, 
for he had little sense of humour-. 
He thought he had succe&dcd-ih. 
bri bi n g a boa t ' f c r e w 
at last, but when 
they all got afloat, 
some time after mid- 
night (he bad got 
down to the water's 
edge with much un- 
necessary craft and 
secrecy), the men 
pretended that they 
understood him to 
engage them for the 
"Giro," which is a 
strip of water com- 
pletely round the 
island, a delightful 
voyage in favourable 
circumstances, but 
rarely indulged in 
during the 
small hours of 
the morning, 
So he was 
taken the cir- 
cuit andlanded 
in the grey 
tiawn at the 
point from 
which he 
started. Even 
he began to 
suspect that 
the natives 
were having a 
good deal of 
with him, and 
this last ven- 
ture had the 
practical result 
of relieving him of his final piece of money. 
His valise had gone long before, and now 
his purse was empty. Helpless indeed he 
knew himself to be as he walked listlessly 
from the port to the town. 

But the M Giro " was his friend after all 
It had been too good a joke to keep strictly 
within native circles, and it leaked out, more 
or less distorted, among the English residents, 
who described the forlorn circumnavigation 
as the u Jeer-O," following the pronunciation 




of the word. Opinion was unanimously 
against him. " Served him right," was the 
universal verdict, given without hearing his 
side of the story, and thus the news came by 
a roundabout method to the ears of Signorina 
Lucia, who had fancied her supposed lover 
long since in his native land. Curiously 
enough, it had never occurred to Stebbens to 
make an appeal to the girl herself. He was 
ashamed to meet her, and so avoided all 
chance of doing so by keeping to his room, 
except when prowling about the coast. Lucia 
was a sensible girl, and took no chances of 
any expostulation from her relatives. " God 
helps those who help themselves," and she 
acted on the proverb. 

The doddering old clock on the Piazza 
had just struck two in the morning when 
Stebbens was awakened by a tapping at the 
window which gave access to the flat roof. 
He had a dreamy impression that the tapping 
had been long continued ; he seemed to have 
heard it for hours. Wondering sleepily what 
new trick was meditated against him, he 
opened the window, and a dark figure on the 
roof shrank farther into the blackness of the 

11 Get ready, quickly and very quietly," 
she said, in a breathless whisper, " and come 
out to me. Don't speak. It is I— Lucia." 

He was speedily by her side, and she led 
him down on to the garden, then to a lane, 
finally to the comparatively open country. 
There was no opportunity for conversation, 
even if she Had not peremptorily forbidden 
it. They were soon on a steep, uncertain, 
and somewhat dangerous path that led to 
the sea. She hurried him with caution, and 
finally took his hand to steady him, which 
action made his heart beat faster than either 
the exertion or the danger. In a cove a 
small boat lay on the waveless water. She 
directed him, still in a hushed voice, to seat 
himself in the stern, then, standing up in the 
boat facing the direction it was to go, began 
to row, not skirting the shore, but striking 
right out to sea, working the blades noise- 
lessly, without a sound of splashing or any 
rattle at the Tope-looped thole-pins. For a 
while Stebbero sat there dazed, not sure but 
he was still dreaming. Once well clear of 
the island, the fair and silent mariner turned 
her skiff toward the east. The revolving 
light on the mainland winked incessantly at 
them, as well it might, for many curious 
things had happened in Capri since the time 
Tiberius held high jinks there. 

11 Lucia, let me row," cried Stebbens at 

by L^OOgle 

" Hush, hush ! You must not talk. Sound 
travels far on the water at night. The rowing 
is easy. You will believe me when I say I 
had no idea you were still on the island 
until yesterday. They told me you had 
gone when they took away your valise from 

our house that night — that night " there 

came a catch in her voice and she could get 
no farther. 

"And you, Lucia — you knew I never 
meant to — to cheat you— to tell what was 
not true— to " 

" Yes, yes, I know. It was all my folly. 
I alone was to blame." 

"No, it was my stupidity. I hope it is 
not wrong to wish that I were free, but I do 
wish it, Lucia." 

" You will be free in a few hours, if you 
keep quiet now." 

" I don't mean that kind of freedom, 

"Oh, I knew very well what you meant. I 
was just joking with you to show that the 
case is not at all serious. You will forget all 
about it in a little while. I have forgotten 
about it already." 

" Have you really, Lucia ? " 

" Certainly. Would I be rowing you to the 
mainland if I hadn't ? " 

" That's true," said the dejected young man, 
with a sigh. 

For a time she would not permit him to 
row, but at last, when they were well clear of 
the island, she resigned the oars to him, pro- 
testing that he did not know how to use them. 
However, he did very well, muscle-power 
being stronger than brain-power with him 
perhaps. He sat on the thwart and rowed 
thus, facing her, although she made sarcastic 
remarks about the position, and averred that 
the method of Capri was better, allowing the 
weight of the body to supplement the strength 
of the arms. He protested that his attitude 
would give him the advantage of seeing her 
face when daylight came, and she'with a little 
laugh said he would be tired by that time, 
begging her to take the oars. The laugh 
reminded him poignantly of former days and 
was bitterly sweet to him, but the first flush 
of dawn showed traces of tears on her 
cheeks, as if she had been crying silently 
during the night. He stopped rowing and 
looked at her. 

" Lucia," he said, "this is pretty hard on 
me too." 

She smiled waveringly and replied, with 
some attempt at jauntiness : — 

" Oh, I'm quite willing to take the oars, 

then." ' , 

Original from 






He ignored her bantering. 

u This going away. Duty or no duty, I 
believe if I were half a man I'd tell those 
folks in England to go to — thunder ! ,? 

"Giovanni, you have improved wonder- 
fully in your Italian. Who has been teaching 
you since I stop|>ed ? " 

l< A lady named Solitude, not nearly so 
nice a teacher as you were. They took 
everything away from me but my Italian 
book; and I have been studying that/* 

"Giovanni, you must row, or let me row* 
lime is passing." 

" Let it pass. I wish they would harry up 
with their pursuit, I see no signs of them 

"Giovanni," she said, earnestly, leaning 
forward, u a man's word is the man. You 
must keep your word, and I am helping you 
to do that. Let me take the oars. Oh, you 
must ; you must. Do not be cruel to me," 

She was standing trying to control her 
countenance, but her lips quivered nervously 
at the corners, and she hurried him back to 
the seat she had left, throwing herself into 
the work, forging the boat ahead through the 
iridescent water. Now and then she glanced 



by L,OOgle 

back over her shoulder, but Capri floated in 
a cloud of purple haze, only the peaks [tainted 
a living red by the rising sun. The sea 
between was empty. The freedom of the 
Englishman was at hand. 

They landed on the rugged mainland and 
secured the boat 

14 Is it to be good -bye then, after all ? " he 
stammered, weakly, 

" Not yet, not yet. I must set you on 
the [Kith to Sorrento, Come,"* 

They climbed the steep hill together, her 
large eyes momentarily questioning the far- 
spreading sea. Suddenly the glance became 
an intent gaze, and she stopped. He, look- 
ing backward, could discern nothing but the 
blue and the dream island swimming in it. 

u They are coming, they are coming/' she 
cried. "Three boats, one following us, one 
making for Solerno, the uther for Sorrento. 
We shall beat them yet, but you must hurry. 
There will perhaps he ten oars in each boat.' 1 
The excitement dried the moisture in her 
eyes; her whole body was animated with 
the tense anxiety of the pursued ; she led 
the way rapidly up the hill, he following 
laboriously, too breathless to protest 

Once on the rugged pathway she paused 
with a deep sigh of relief, He could now 
see the glitter of the sun on the oars that 
rose and fell with a quick rhythmic move- 
ment. The rowers were consuming the 
distance with stalwart celerity. 

"Giovanni, this path will take you to 
Sorrento, Hurry, hurry, you will not be 
safe until you are in the train at Castel- 
lamare. Get the best carriage you can at 
Sorrento to take you l here. And oh, I was 
near forgetting the most important thing. 
Here is money. Don't spare it. They 
did not intend to keep your money, but 
this will cancel their debt. You may send 
me back from England the difference, 11 

As she eagerly brought forth the notes 
two letters and a paper fell from the 
leathern receptacle which hung at her 
side, and into which she had placed every- 
thing she was to give him at the last, 

" How stupid lam. It is my fear least 
you be overtaken- These letters come 
last night and the journal. Don't stop to 
open them now. J * 

In spite of her prohibition he opened 
the one which bore the crest of his college 
on the envelope, glanced at it ? and gave 
a cry of dismay, 

u Is it bad news, Giovanni ?" 
"Yes. I have failed completely this 
time, and am dismissed from the college 




as a hopeless incompetent, which is exactly 
what I am. I can never be a clergyman now," 

"I am sorry, Perhaps the other letter will 
give better news." 

He read that also, and let sheet and 
envelope flutter to the ground. 

M Is it worse than the first ? ?1 

" No." 

" Not good news, though ? " 

u Very good news. Completely wipes out 
the other. I am just trying to realize it" 

M Thai is well, then, I am happy that you 
go with pleasant tidings* Here is your 
paper, Giovanni, and good-bye. You must 
hasten, for the 
boats are coming 
very fast." 

14 Deuce take 
the paper ! " he 
cried, flinging It 
far down the 
hill, where any 
searcher for anti- 
quities may still 
find it, The girl 
looked at him in 

11 Lucia, Miss 
Olcutt writes, giv- 
ing also the news 
of my failure* I 
will not be a 
clergyman, there- 
fore she cannot 
marry me. Lucia, 
Lucia, our be- 
trothal was the 
true betrothal, 
after all. I^t us 
celebrate it. r ' 

41 Giovanni," 
she beseeched, 
with more of 
agony in her voice 
than he had ever 
before heard ; 
"oh, Giovanni," 
holding him off, 
"I cannot, can- 
not bear a second 

" There is no mistake a! all, either first or 
second. We are going back to Capri. The 
onlyjnistake was in my failing to recognise I 
was intended for a vinedresser and not a 
clergyman. Lucia, I am yours if you will 
have me, though, as your polite cousin truly 
says, you are a thousand times too good for 
such as L And now we will have the joke 

on those hurrying boatmen. We will go 
down to meet them. I will say to them, 
smiting my breast, that a beautiful Capri 
girl and a freeborn Englishman are not to 
be coerced into marrying each other. We 
have come to the mainland to show that 
we could escape if we wanted to. Those 
lads have had a tot of fun with me, now 
Vm going to say * April Fool* to them. 
Ill make them wonder what they were 
in such a hurry for. Let us go back to 
our boat." 

The girl clapped her hands in glee, but 
she was quicker- wit ted than hut fiance. 

"If we go 



by GGOgk 

down there," she 
said, " they may 
think we gave up 
the flight. I^et 
us go on to Sor- 
rento, They can- 
not possibly 
overtake us. We 
will be in time 
for the morning 
steamer to Capri. 
W hen that 
steamer arrives 
at the Grand 
Marina we will 
land together in 
the sight of all 
Capri, and before 
the three boats 
can have re- 
turned. By this 
time everyone 
knows of the pur- 
suit, and once 
you are on the 
steamer, of 
course, everyone 
knows you could 
have gone any- 
where in the 
world you wanted 
to, They can 
never say you 
were forced to 
marry me." 
li A splendid 
idea ! " shouted John, enthusiastically, 

"Ah t Giovanni, we are neither of us fit 
for the church, for first you swear and now 
I'm plotting deceit, but let us on to Sorrento. 
I'll run you a race.'* 

They joined hands and sped along the 
path to Sorrento, which proved to be their 
entering upon the path of life together. 
Original from 


Ptdpit Devices. 

By E. Leslie Gill£ains, 

HE watchword of the twentieth 
century seems to be "origi- 
nality." This extends not only 
to the business man, the 
politician, the day labourer, 
and the private citizen, but it 
reaches even to the pulpit. The divine of 
to-day is radically different from his prede- 
cessor of a hundred years ago. He has 
adapted himself to the times, and in order to 
secure practical results from his ministry is 
ready if necessary to defy conventionalities 
and instigate hitherto unheard-of customs. 

Clergymen of other days held a super- 
stitious fear of innovations, 
and hedged themselves about 
with a wall of long approved 
methods, and doc- 



trines. not daring to venture a 
step along the path of originality 
for fear of losing the respect of 
their followers and lessening 
Eheir influence for good. 

Now all this is changed, 
and ministers of religion, even 
in this country, are changing 
their tactics. One preaches to 
a congregation attired in fault- 
less evening dress. Another 
engages a popular actress to 
deliver a recitation in his 
church. Whether the end 
justifies these means is a matter 
opel to much difference of opinion. But it is 
certain that as yet this country is but a begin- 
ner in such things in comparison with America. 
There the minister of religion is at least as 
up-to-date as any other public man. He has 
developed with the times, and, instead of 
putting forth every effort to tread the narrow 
path which those who went before him 
marked out, he courageously steps aside and 
maps out a course for himself. Results 
shown by the recent religious census prove 
that in no period of time since the settling 
of America have the numerous churches of 
the United States had such large and ever- 
increasing congregations. 

The original and even startling pulpit 
devices inaugurated by the ministers to 
attract and hold congregations are numerous 
and interesting, and show a comprehensive 
understanding of human nature. 

The minister who announced that he would 

Digitized byC.' 

deliver his sermons in a "red robe" 
succeeded in arousing the curiosity of all 
within his vicinity and in drawing large crowds 
to his church. Still more daring and original 
is the man who illustrates his sermons with 
oil-paintings shown, and even executed, in 
the pulpit The clergyman whose church 
is non-sectarian, and who says that he lays 
claim to no church or particular congregation, 
has gained many converts and is doing good 
work. The Rev. C. HL Tyndall announces 
that he illustrates Bible truths by electricity, 
and has proved himself a leader in the ranks 
on the great march of progress by introducing 
wireless telegraphy into his 

The church with a roof- 
garden is welt attended and 
has an original man at its head, 
one who realizes that the hot 
days of summer frequently 
destroy the good done during 
the balmy* soul-inspiring days 
of spring, and who has braved 
criticism and established codes 
by building a cool retreat on 
the roof of his church where 
open-air services are held. 

A California church which 
has its choral services con- 
ducted by a Chinese choir 
understands that the people of 
the twentieth century clamour 
for novelty, something to capture the attention 
and hold the interest. In this class might 
also be mentioned a church in the city settled 
by William Penn, where lady ushers show 
strangers to a pew. 

The latest pulpit device of this kind, and 
one more original* peihaps, than any of the 
rest, is that inaugurated by the Rev, Mr. 
Karns, of Jersey Shore, Pennsylvania. He 
is pastor of the Ep worth Methodist Episcopal 
Church, and has by his hard work and origin- 
ality raised his charge from the mission state to 
that of a large and ever-increasing congrega- 
tion. He created quite a sensation recently 
by publishing a newspaper announcement 
that he would pay each person who attended 
his Sunday morning services. The success 
of his plan was fully demonstrated by the 
crowded church, Mr, Karns does not pay 
his congregation without an end to gain, but 






si" vour > 

lir lilr 


not I particle of light was shed on the 
pastor's scheme until he read from Matthew 
the parable of the man who, travelling in a 
far country, delivered to his servants his 
goods, giving to one a single talent, to 
another five, and 
to a third ten. 
Following the 
sermon, which 
merely suggested 
the pastor's pur- 
pose, Mr. Karns 
explained under 
what conditions 
the money would 
be given away. 
His object was 
to cancel a long- 
standing debt, 
and already the 
success of his 
original method 

of achieving this end is assured. From a 
member of his congregation he received a 
sum of money a short time ago with the in- 
junction -that it should be given away in a 
manner best calculated to do the most good. 
As the sum was small Mr. Karns was in a 
quandary as to the best way of investing it 
While pondering 
upon the subject 
the idea of using 
it to pay the church 
debt came to him 
like an inspiration. 
He secured a 
number of en- 
velopes, upon 
which he had 
printed, "This is 
your talent Don't 
wrap it up in a 
napkin but use it. 
Your love for the 
success of the cause 
will determine your 
efforts. Harness up 
this talent and 
make it pull in 
others." Into each 
of these envelopes 
was slipped one 
cent. The ten 
in ills of this copper 

coin represented ten talents, and after the 
envelopes were distributed the recipients 
were instructed to invest the money found 
therein, adding to it first, if they saw fit, or 
utilizing just the original one rent in such a 

Three Classes. 



La a it.ipkitz but 
the success of the cause m,-i11 ile-, 

: i ■- ■ - ->-i> fekatind m*k^ it 



Frvmal iNt.iiNiuus scheme. [£*oto. 




manner that in a given time the amount 
would have multiplied a hundredfold. The 
idea was a lucky one* The congregation o/ 
Mr. Karns's church is not wealthy, and very 
likely each member would hesitate long 

before donating 
a useful sum 
towards wiping 
out the debt, hut 
each immediately 
was captivated 
by the novel 
scheme for rais- 
ing money, and 
all set to work 
with a will to 
make the pastor's 
idea a success. 

After service 
the congregation 
met in the vestry 
to devise ways 
and means of first increasing, then properly 
investing, their capital They formed them- 
selves into classes, members of the first section 
pledging themselves to increase their one 
talent to a hundred ; Class 2 consisted of 
those who promised to devise a way of return 
ing $2 in place of the present sum in hand, 

one cent ; the third 
class saw their way 
clear to invest their 
money so as to 
make it yield $3, 
and members of the 
$5 and $10 divi- 
sions pledged them- 
selves each one to 
return the amount 
signified by the 
name of their 
section at the 
general meeting, 
which will be held 
about the middle of 

The plans for 
making money 
w h i c h t h e co n grega- 
tion conceived were 
amusing, a 11 d 
almost equalled in 
originality their 
pastor's innovation. 
Five dollars capital seemed at first a very 
small amount with which to raise enough 
money to cancel a church debt of some 
hundreds of dollars ; but if each of the 
five hundred persons receiving an envelope 

Original from 




containing the one cent returns it with its 
contents doubled two hundredfold, that 
would make a total of $1,000, and as 
many have pledged themselves to earn twice 
that sum it can be readily seen that the debt 
will not only be wiped out but that a sub- 
stantial surplus will also remain in the church 
treasury, This merely proves what a little 
originality and courage to set aside conven- 
tionalities will accomplish — how it will solve 
that all- trying problem of 
money - raising. What 
matters it whether the 
methods to secure suc- 
cess, so long as they be 
honest, are put forth in 
the market or the pulpit ? 

"I'll wager $i,ooothat 
I can gain fifteen converts 
within two weeks in any 
church lent to me," was 
the Startling proposition 
made by Mr, Duke M. 
Far son, t he ba n k e r- m i n- 
ister, a short time ago. A 
bet made by a man of the 
cloth ! The idea was 
alarming at first, but upon 
giving it careful considers 
tion the pastor of the 
First Methodist Church 

Tll£ HKV. D. M. KAN 

^-'. ■.-,•,■! !l | UKUt 

richer by fifteen members ; if Mr. Farson fails 
to win the converts the church will have 
$t>qoo added to its treasury. 

The banker- revivalist is a very interesting 
and original character, and although a busy 
man in the world of money-making, with 
several big enterprises demanding his con- 
stant attention, he still finds time for religious 
duties and has been a prominent factor in 
some of the greatest revivals that have ever 
swept the United States, 

About two years ago he * 
built a church, a beautiful 
structure with a seating 
capacity of about two 
hundred persons, and it 
is the proud boast of the 
creator that the church is 
the scene of a permanent 
revival, and that its pro- 
sperous condition is due 
to the fact that it is run 
on strictly up - to - date 
principles. Certain is it 
that no preacher ever drew 
larger crowds than has Mr, 
Farson been collecting 
since his bet. There is 
something exciting in a 
contest of any kind which 
always draws a crowd, 
and Mr. Farson realized 

tVAIiEH. [ Ptafo. 

Chicago took up the 

and turned over his church to Mr. his startling 

This banker - preacher is a revivalist of 
great renown, and although he has a church 
of his own he believes that the ministers of 
to-day need stirring up. He thinks they are 
too much hampered by conventionalities, 
and in order to arouse them to enthusiasm 
and to gather the people he laid this strange 

Mr. Farson does not confine the proposi- 
tion to one church : he is willing to extend 
the offer indefi 

that when 

he made 



He feels 
safe in 
for his powers as 
a revivalist have 
been frequently 
tested and 
proved irresist- 
ible, If the 
church which 
accepts the chal- 
lenge loses, so to 
speak, it will be 

Vol x*il-39 



Original tram 


Fmtna PhoiQ. 

At Cincinnati, in the United States, Dr. 
Robbing, of Lincoln Park Baptist Church in 
that town, determined to provide a nursery 
in connection with his church in order that 
babies might be taken care of whilst the 
mothers attended the services. He had for 
this purpose one of the galleries of the church 
fitted up with cots, in which the babies can 
sleep peacefully and leave the mothers to take 
part in the public worship. Should any of 

the babies awake, 
a trained nurse 
is immediately at 
hand to soothe 
and quiet it off 
to sleep again. 
There is also a 
nursery in con- 
nection with a 
church at Brook- 
lyn. It is situated 
in the basement, 
and along the 
walls are cribe 




and baby carriages for the infants, while for 
older children toys of all sorts are provided, 
and the little ones are under the care of 
voluntary nurses. Even the question of food 
has been provided for. 

This, as can be readily seen, will prove a 
great inducement to the mothers, and many 
who could not leave their little ones alone 
long enough to attend church will now be 
able to enjoy a morning service with a free 
mind, knowing that the children are being 
- well cared for, 

The Rev. M, L. Sornborger, of the Caron- 
delet Christian 
Church, St. 
Louts, Missouri, 
is the only 
preacher known 
who gives his 
cong rega t ion 
pictorial sermons 
from oil-paint- 
ings and draw- 
ings which he 
himself executes. 
He discovered 
that his congrega- 
tion was dimin- 
ishing in num- 
bers, and con- 
ceived this 
method of bring- 
ing back the 
delinquent ones 
and of gaining 
new members. 
He draws maps 
or sketches Bib- 
lical scenes while 
d el ive ring a 
sermon, and 
brings vividly 
before the people 
the life of Christ 
by showing them 
huge oil - paint- 
ings, his own work, descriptive »f the text 
from which he preaches. 

This new departure from the beaten and 
long-trodden j>aths of the regulation methods 
of preaching m a dry, prosaic manner, merely 
presenting the Scriptures to the people in the 
language of the present with a few thoughts 
and theories of the speaker added, caused 
quite a stir among the ministry and people of 
the town, and Mr. Sornborger was severely 
censured for " trying to turn a church service 
into a week-day entertainment," But having 

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From a] inc. the 

the courage of his convictions, and feeling 
sure that he was working in the right 
direction j he continued to illustrate his 
sermons and make the Sunday services as 
attractive as possible. 

At first the congregation was small and 
composed chiefly of those who came from 
curiosity, but in a short time the curious 
ones became interested and brought their 
friends, and in a few months the members 
had more than doubled in number The 
sermons were plain, simple, straightforward 
talks, illustrated in a most beautiful manner. 
All the terrifying scenes were omitted in 

Mr. Sornborger's 
sermons, and he 
told the story of 
Christ's life on 
earth in such a 
manner as to 
bring forward the 
purity of the 
Saviour, the no- 
bili ty of His 
character, and 
the loving-kind- 
ness shown by 
His deeds. 

This method 
of congregation- 
luring worked 
like a charm. At- 
tracted first by 
the novelty of 
the thing, the 
people flocked to 
criticise, but they 
remained to en- 
joy, Mr. Sorn- 
borger reasons 
that to hold a 
congregation a 
minister must 
make his dis- 
courses interest- 


crucifixion, [Photo, ing and enter- 

taining as well as 
instructive. He is very democratic, both in 
theory and practice, believing that all men are 
created equal. His sermons are not known 
by that name, but are styled talks or lectures. 
This up-to date disciple of Christ maintains 
that kindred emotions govern all mankind. 
He therefore selects passages from the Bible 
best calculated to appeal to the highest